


The Big Four in Westeros

by xTonyaJacex



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Brave (2012), Game of Thrones (TV), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), Rise of the Guardians (2012), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Disney, F/F, F/M, Female Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, Game of Thrones AU, Gen, Girl-Hiccup, Reincarnation, genderbent, the big four
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 01:17:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 88,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12158649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xTonyaJacex/pseuds/xTonyaJacex
Summary: Synopsis: The big four are reincarnated as Game of thrones characters. This changes the game from the very beginning and Westeros has no idea just what awaits them.  [The big four reincarnation]Character Roles:Rapunzel as Margaery TyrellHiccup as Daenerys TargaryenMerida as Arya StarkJack Frost as Jon Snow[Nobody asked for this but it wouldn't leave my brain.]





	1. Fire and Blood

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where this came from. My brain farted after looking at some fan art and this happened. I honestly just wanted to post it and see what would happen. If anyone has some recommends or ideas for this story then do share. I have no plans for this story and no idea where it's going. I just wanted to know if anyone else has come across similar stories or had similar ideas. Anyway, read it and let me know your thoughts. 
> 
> Reasons for Hiccup and Rapunzel: I thought Hiccup could handle being a girl better and plus obviously the dragons. I know Punzie has the look of a Lannister but I didn't want her to be corrupted or too angsty so I gave her to the Tyrell's. She can still be badass and not have to lose that bright light happiness vibe she gives off.  
> Reasons for Merida and Jack: Merida and Arya are very similar in both temperment and stubborness I thought it would work. Jack Frost vs Jon SNOW, another obvious for me, also Winterfell and so many other things. Also I thought Merida would benefit from having Jack with her to cool her temper. 
> 
> P.S: YES! The Big four knew/encountered each other in their original lives. YES! They will also be able to know each other upon first meet in their new lives.

  _ ***Edited : 26/12/2018- Minor spelling mistakes and  grammar.***_

** Chapter 1: Fire and Blood **

**[Hiccup]**

He is a girl.

The shock of his situation scares him and leaves him dazed for several days. He is aware enough to know that the blond boy who constantly whispers cruel things is his brother. He does not like the boy but can do nothing but listen with wary observation. The boy is obviously unhinged and incredibly mad- something Hiccup finds alarming. He is obviously not anywhere near his village and he is smart enough to know he had died in his last moments before waking here. Hiccup mourns when he comes to such realizations; he grieves for his many friends and family. Above all else he despairs that he will never see Toothless again; his best friend is not here with him and it hurts.

As he grows Viserys, his new brother, tells him the history of their family. Hiccup is sceptical towards most of it but knows better than to anger his brother. He finds a friend in one of the men who’d sworn fealty to the king- apparently in this life Hiccup was royalty. Hiccup had no interest in joining his brother in revenge and conquering the Iron throne that is, supposedly, theirs. Instead, he busies himself with learning more about this new world and the history of his family and all the other major houses in Westeros.

Hiccup never hides his desires or beliefs that dragons are real, that they exist. It is the only thing about his family he is proud of. He dreams of Toothless some nights; his best friend looks different; not as friendly or approachable only similar in that his scales are the exact same shade as before. In his dreams Hiccup rides the wind and sky on Toothless’s back and his best bud has two siblings at his side. They are a family; the only ones Hiccup needs in this life. He tries to sleep more often simply to see them.

When Viserys sells him Hiccup had felt the sudden temptation to be rid of his own brother. He surprised himself with how deeply he wanted to give in. It bothered him slightly but as eventually he accepted that there was a darkness in him; a darkness that craved such things. Hiccup is aware that he is no longer a chief to a village; he acknowledges that he is not the man who died and left so many behind.

He is now a she.

Daenerys Targaryen- a lost princess.

He knows he can handle his new role with ease.

In a strange way the Dothraki ironically comfort him. They remind him of Vikings with how their habits are and their culture. Khal Drogo is firm in his leadership but not as cruel as he could be; his new husband- and isn’t just so weird to say, is demanding and strong. It is not hard for Hiccup to respect the man. He has spent so long in this new life, in this new body, that he has grown numb towards everything. He finds no motivation within himself to truly try and fight what is expected of him. He most likely would have died from being so detached and impassive of everything.

Everything changes the day he is presented dragon eggs as a wedding gift.

It is the first time Hiccup feels something other than emptiness in his chest. He shuts out the world, ignores the anger of his brother and the commands of his husband. Instead, Hiccup reaches out for the three dragon eggs. It is only when his fingers brush against the shell of the night black coloured egg does he feel the pulsing burn in his blood.

He cries and feels the thrum of life that responds to his touch.

“Hey bud, you found me.”

For the first time in his new life, Hiccup finally feels alive.

 

 

 


	2. Growing Strong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Edited: 26/12/2018- Minor spelling and grammar mistakes*

** Chapter 2: Growing Strong **

**[Rapunzel]**

She misses Eugene.

There are days where she hears his laugh; believes she saw him in the corner of her gazes but there is nobody there. He haunts her and she struggles to accept that he is not with her. Are the powers above so cruel that they would separate her from her true love? It upsets her; the fact that in this life she has a family, siblings to call her own, all she wished for once before. She had never thought the price to be paid for such things would be Eugene. She hates herself on those days and hates and hates. She hates everything those days.

She worries her brothers; it hurts but also makes her so happy to know they love her. She is tormented with so many emotions; she worries they would call her crazy and lock her away. They never do. Instead, Willas would hold her while she cries. He reads to her and teaches her all that he knows about the world. He teaches her all that he has learnt in his life and she loves him for it. Garlan would bring her gifts. He hunts and captures anything he believes she may find interest in. He tries to show her the world beyond their garden by spoiling her with treats and she loves him for it. Loras, the last of her brothers, becomes her best friend. He makes her laugh and shows her the many ways they could have fun without care and she loves him for it.

It is slow but Rapunzel learns to live on. She never heals, never forgets her love for Eugene. She grows thorns, sharp and unsuspecting on her stems. She learns to play the game of this new world and how best to outsmart men and women who believe she is just a pretty face. She lives and she blooms into a beautiful rose. She makes her grandmother proud and she keeps her brothers secrets until finally, she manages to love her new life.

It is only in the late nights when she is alone and undisturbed; only then does she think of Eugene. She thinks he would be proud of her, impressed even, at how she is surviving in this world without him. Occasionally, she uses the skill he taught her. It’s her own way of keeping the memory of him fresh and alive in her mind. She uses his stories to distract and direct people away from Loras and his games with the male servants. She steals things that she knows he would have wanted and never once gets caught.

He would be proud of her, that she knows without a doubt.

Among her new family, her new grandmother proves to be ambitious. She has little patience for nonsense and is a woman full of pride; her father means well but is blind and easy to fool; her mother is disappointing and so she does her best to fill the gaps they leave with her brothers once she is old enough. She is well aware of the expectations they hold for her, their wants for her to achieve. She is again considered a trophy to be won and paraded around like a prize. She has no interest in letting her life be run by others like her last.

Rapunzel plots and plans and she plays the game.

She plays to win.


	3. Winter is Coming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chap I have for this lolx. 
> 
> Jack had spent 300 years as a spirit and now he is alive again, it's why he's not as depressed as the others.

**[Jack Frost]**

He is alive.

He breathes and can physically touch things without phasing through. He has blood that pumps in his veins and a heart that pounds. Most of all he can be seen and it is that which makes him cry. He thinks the switch from spirit to living should make it harder to adjust to his new body. Instead it is as easy as learning to fly. He remembers his life before, has the memory of thousands of years as a winter spirit and those precious years as a child guardian. He is unsure of what caused his resurrection but he does not shun it. Instead he listens and watches- He learns of where he is.

It saddens him to watch his mother die after birthing him. He feels guilt but knows that life is not always kind and death takes at any time. He learns that the man beside his mother is not his father but his uncle. From the little conversation the two share, he pieces the story together on his own. That his mother had run from a man. How she was trapped in a tower by guards. He learns that she loved him with all her heart. Despite not knowing her, Jack promises to live for her and prays for Manny to guide her spirit like he did for him.

He comes off as a curious child, he thinks. His uncle often spent time gazing upon him with a mix of sorrow and affection. He knows his uncle hurts and so Jack does his best to make the man smile. It’s harder than he anticipated- his uncle is reserved and tends to be very serious. But after so long his efforts are rewarded. His uncle laughs long and loudly that it shocks the rest of the company. Jack doesn’t care, he only smiles a gummy laugh and chucks the mud in his hands at another man’s face. They are nothing like his snowballs but they do the job well enough.

He meets the man his mother ran from. He is not impressed and more than relieved when his uncle declares they are going home. Home where King Robert- and how unbelievable is that- does not dwell. Jack thinks he could understand just why his mother would run from such a brute. When they arrive in Winterfell, Jack cries out with pure excitement and joy. He shucks the hood he wears and claps his hands for the soft flakes that fall from the sky. His babble never stops and his laughing only grows louder when the flakes fall and rest on his hair and face. He knows that the gaze and smile on his uncle’s face is pride and affection.

The only moment Jack thinks his new life may be uncomfortable is when he meets his Uncle’s wife. Lady Catelyn hates him upon introduction and Jack does not know how exactly to respond. He is awkward under her stare and hurt by her vocal rejection but most of all angry that she would dare to treat a child with such contempt. It takes him awhile to understand why his Uncle would lie about his parentage. When he does understand- he only loves his uncle more and starts to call him father. Other than Lady Catelyn, Jack loves everything about this new world. His new life.

His cousin is adorable and reminds Jack so strongly of Jamie. He goes out of his way to keep the boy smiling and laughing. He ignores Lady Catelyn’s attempts to separate them- takes it as encouragement to continue. He is the cause of many arguments between her and his uncle. Never once does his uncle give in to her pleas or tantrums. Jack never hides the victorious smirk on his lips each time.

 Life at Winterfell is heaven for Jack. He explores every inch of the place, always with his cousin Robb at his side. He makes so many friends and plays so many games with all the children that he gains a reputation. The adults call him a mischievous boy with a streak for troublemaking but they always wear a smile as they say it. The children love him, fight with each other sometimes just for attention. No-one fights harder than Robb and Jack only loves his cousin more at the jealousy. They are thick as thieves and Jack knows that nothing in this world will ever steal away his cousin.

Jack becomes aware of the magic in this new world the first time he visits the godswood. He feels it in the air, in the trees and the ground. It is different to the magic in his memories but does not register as a threat. He befriends the magic in the woods and is gifted with a funny looking stick that makes him cry and laugh at the same time. Robb never understands his attachment to the stick he drags around with him. No one does and Jack never explains, he takes there acceptance of his stick as proof at just how much they like him. When Lady Catelyn throws a fuss about him carrying it with him to dinner and bringing it into the castle, Robb is the one to help him hide it.

It becomes their own personal game to play against Lady Catelyn, and Jack teaches Robb many tricks to get away with mischief. Jack almost forgets that he is considered a bastard child. He had learnt to ignore Lady Catelyn so well that anytime she calls him such he never even realises she’s talking. He never hears the word used against him when he is present, but knows the adults use it when he is not near to hear. The first time a child calls him a Bastard son- he had to pull Robb away and wrap his knuckles before Lady Catelyn finds him.

Explaining to Robb what a bastard is, was nerve wracking for Jack. He wasn’t sure how Robb would react- if it would change how his cousin saw him. Jack was scared Robb would stop seeing him as family and treat him much like Lady Catelyn did. When Robb punched him in the arm and threatened to beat him too if he ever called himself a bastard again- Jack had tackled him in a hug and wondered just what he had done to deserve this life.

None of the children ever call Jack a bastard again and Robb is pampered by Jack for weeks. The fact that Robb doesn’t even try to hide his smugness at Jack’s pampering makes it all the more entertaining. Jack almost cries when his uncle takes both of them aside and hugs them both with pride in his eyes before letting them know they will both be learning how to sword fight.

The first time Jack feels fear- pure heart stopping fear, is the day he gets sick with pox. He had been sure, positive that he was going to die again. He had broken down so bad and thought for sure the last thing he would see would be Pitch at his side. He would never forget the way his unc-Father wept at his side when it was too late for visitors. He had heard Robbs screams and shouts for him outside his doors. He had been half awake when Robb snuck in, bringing Jack his stick and begging Jack to get better soon amidst tears.

He finally believed that he had died. The night he realised he was in spirit form and no-one could see him, not even Robb. Jack had screamed in anguish constantly for someone anyone. Pleaded for every power that existed to return him to life- to let him be alive again. Jack cursed the world for the cruel tricks they played with him and sobbed non-stop during the experience. Then he watched as even Lady Catelyn had come to visit him. He watched the tears in her eyes and the fear in them as she stared at his weak body. He heard her prayers and pleas for his life and was so touched. Yes- it took him being on his death bed for her to accept him and show concern, but still she was praying for his well-being.

Jack doesn’t know what exactly or who answered his pleads. Or even if they saved him due to Lady Catelyn’s begging rather than him. But he lived, and that was all that mattered. Robb had been clingy for a while but Jack had welcomed it. Their father was always watching and Jack always kept in his sights. It was Lady Catelyn that disappointed him. Jack had heard her prayers her promises and now…. Now he was watching her break them. Jack came to the conclusion that his near death experience was to be a lesson for him. A way for him to always remember that humanity is flawed and Adults lie. Jack avoided Lady Catelyn from that day on, unable to keep the disappointment from his face every time he looked at her.

The years passed and Jack continued to live his new life freely. He never held back in all things he wished to explore. He tried his best to keep his curious spirit tempered for his father’s sake, but never quelled it completely. He had eagerly helped Robb adjust to the role of being a big brother when Sansa was born. Jack was fascinated by his new half-sister/cousin. She was adorable and sweet a contrast to Robb’s boyish charms as a babe. She had an innocence about her that reminded him of Sophie. Jack always treated her as a princess which never ceased to irritate Robb- another thing that made him laugh.

Following Sansa’s birth was Arya, and Jack sensed the difference in her the minute she took her first breath in this new world. Lady Catelyn had begun to interfere with the amount of time Jack could spend with Sansa. Hiding her away whenever Jack would be present. She was persistent in making sure Sansa did not bond with him like Robb did. He scowled when she did that but didn’t let it stop him from gifting his new sister with gifts. One’s Lady Catelyn could never throw away. It was due to that persistence that Jack was able to bond with Arya instead. Lady Catelyn could hardly be in two places at once.

There was a fire in Arya the moment she screamed in this new world. Jack could feel it and her eyes were always too bright with knowledge. He had never seen a Baby with eyes that shone so intelligently like hers did. Jack taught Arya many things, how to speak, how to hide but most importantly how to have fun. He never gave up on trying to bond with Sansa but was proud at the bond he formed with Arya. Robb of course struggled to share with his new sisters but loved them fiercely and Jack assured him that was all children ever needed.

It was an accident the day he realised why Arya was so different. She was only three and Lady Catelyn had just given birth to another boy-Bran. He had gone in search off her, concerned that she thought she was being replaced like some children tend to believe. He found her in the godswood. She was shivering and crying at the root of one of the weir trees. It was by getting closer he realised she was screaming and shouting into her hands. It was by eaves dropping that he learned he knew her, that she was just like him.

They talked late into the evening that day, him comforting her and she opening up to him. He was a silent presence to her mourning- offering his shoulder and cloak as she cried for the loss of her younger brothers and the parents she left behind. He helped her- cooled her temper each time it threatened to blind her when she interacted with their new family. It took a lot for Jack to mediate between Arya and Sansa. The two always fighting over many things. Even Robb suffered the sisters fighting. Whilst proud and thankful for his big family- Jack did grow weary with the arguing and squabbling at times.

Bran was quiet. At least quiet enough to be forgotten and so Jack made sure to never let the boy get left behind. Bran was a dreamer and Jack encouraged him to chase those dreams with every fibre inside him. Jack will always love his siblings but Bran would be special in a different sense. That was because, Bran believed in Jack Frost, the Tooth Fairy, The Easter Bunny, The Sand Man and Santa. Jack had always made it a point to tell children of his friends, of the guardians and what they fought for. Like all children, they grew up and stopped believing. Robb tried his best to hold onto his belief but Jack knew he had doubts and that was okay. Sansa was never really sold on his stories and Arya already knew they were real. Bran though, he believed full heartedly and Jack spoiled him for it.

When the last of his new siblings/cousins were born, Jack thought life in Winterfell must be his heaven. Rickon was always hiding behind Lady Catelyn’s skirts but was wild and free whenever Arya came to steal him away. It was no secret that Arya’s favourite sibling was Rickon and vice versa. Jack favoured all his siblings/cousins in different ways. There was never a day in Winterfell in which the Stark children stopped having adventures. Winterfell was filled of so many adventures and fun and so Jack never cared about the world outside the North. He never grew curious.

The day the Royal family visits, is the day Jack knows change is afoot. He senses the whispering of the old magic, the stirring and warnings of the magic trees and the shiver of the winds. He keeps his masks welcoming and unassuming but knows that even Arya feels it. It puts them both on edge and Jack knows that evil is rising.

Jack Frost lives again and so he will show all those who oppose him and threaten those he loves.

Winter is coming.


	4. Not Today

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last pre-written chapter I have. 
> 
> Jack, Merida, Hiccup and Rapunzel will always refer to themselves as such when it is their point pf view but to everyone else they are Jon, Arya, Dany and Margeary.

**[Merida]**

She is a babe.

Merida screams when she first enters this new world. She is lost and confused and angry. There is a furious rage that burns inside her as she recalls her last memories. She knows well enough that she died. Her last moments are foggy but the pain of it was real. She blinks at her surroundings, at the faces that greet her and she roars out her emotions. Magic was capable of many things, she knew that. The fates were real and something told her it was them she should blame.

She is not the first born child and she is weirded by it. She learns she has three older siblings. Two brothers and one sister. She is not a princess in this life and she does not mind that. However she is still a highborn lady and she can’t find any difference between the two roles. Her eldest brother Robb, is playful and kind. There are moments she thinks he finds her annoying but he never fails to make her laugh or smile. Her second brother confuses her.

Her new mother appears to hate her second brother. She finds out that it is because he is her half-brother. Lady Catelyn never ceases to show her disdain for him and Merida cannot respect her for it. There is something about Jon that Merida feels familiar with. Jon always treats her like she is more than a babe. He is her favourite person in this new life because of it. She has an older sister, which she rarely sees. Lady Catelyn is usually too busy trying to hide Sansa from Jon and so Merida never really gets to know her sister. She doesn’t really try to.

Her new father is quieter than her first father. He is nothing like her first father and Merida struggles to find comfort in him. She knows he loves her though and it is that which makes her fond of the man. Winterfell is cold and most often barren of green and filled with white. She misses the green of her previous life- the cliffs and the freedom. She learns to love the cold and finds beauty in Winterfell with Jon’s help.

She breaks when her mother tells her she is to be a big sister. It is shock- grief and rage that overwhelms her and she runs away. Away from the castle, away from all the new family members. Runs so she can mourn her younger brothers and beg them to believe she is not forgetting them. She finds comfort in the godswood. She thinks she feels magic there but is not sure. It is there that Jon finds her.

Jon is like her. He knows her from before and Merida is relieved that she is not alone. Jon becomes her anchor, he is her guide in this life and she clings to him. He understands her more than anyone in this world and she is protective of him. Something her brother Robb sours over but accepts eventually with a truce from her part. She struggles to welcome Bran feeling too much like she is betraying her younger brothers from before. Jon helps her and makes up for any mistakes she makes with Bran.

When Rickon is born, Merida’s heart stops. He looks so much like her triplet brothers though she knows he is not. She accepts him quicker and easiest as a brother- as a sibling than any of the others. It is no secret and she feels horrible for not responding the same way for Bran. She works harder on her relationship with Bran but it is no secret that Rickon is her favourite. Rickon changes her and she finally accepts that she loves her new siblings. They will never replace her old family but they are just as important to her.

The bonds she has with her brothers are strong. The same cannot be said for her sister. Sansa is too consumed with Lady Catelyn’s lady teachings. Merida hates that she has to fight for her independence and freedom- to fight all over again. It is especially hard as her new father is reluctant to fight Lady Catelyn on the subject. She clashes plenty with her new mother and sister.

The day she requests to be included in sword training with her brothers is the first time she yells at her new mother. She is not cowed by her new mother’s reprimands- has fought before for her rights to fight and be trained like a warrior. Her new father intervenes but it does nothing to quell the fight inside her heart. It is Jon that helps her win the argument against her new parents. Telling her of the House Mormont who train their women to fight and have a bear for a symbol.

She is not allowed to properly train like her brothers, but she is allowed to watch and be given basic instruction. She concedes to those conditions only because she needs her new body to be in proper shape in order to regain her past skill. Instead she reads and learns all she can about the Mormont family and begs her father to introduce her. She finds great friendship with house Mormont. They remind her of the family she left behind.

She almost manages to trick herself into thinking she is a Mormont and not a Stark. It is Jon that makes her aware of the distance she is creating between herself and her new family. She stubbornly fights him defensively until Bran wakes her to the truth. Again, Merida runs to the godswood so she could break down freely. She is starting to believe that she could not continue in this world. That she will never be able to accept this new life.

It is Robb that proves that she can. That day onwards, Merida works hard to truly become a Stark. Sooner than she thought possible, the pride of being a Stark is all she brims with. She sees the relief in her new fathers eyes and works harder on getting to know her father. She accepts that once in a life time she had been a bear, but this life she is a wolf of Winterfell. House Mormont still holds a soft spot in her heart but she is a wolf and she embraces her new destiny fully.

She knows she has purpose for being in this new world. Aware that the powers beyond have plans for her and Jon.

She vows to change any fate that ends in tragedy for her new family.


	5. A night to remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no idea where to take this chapter. It's nonsense really and I watched alot of HTTYD eps to get Hiccup's character. I don't know what to do with Hiccup and the Dothraki. Ideas? 
> 
> Also maybe names for the other two dragons? I mean Hiccup's not gonna name them Drogon, Viserion and Rhaegal because they don't hold the same importance/meaning to him. Obviously Toothless is still Toothless to him. 
> 
> Thoughts?

  **[Hiccup]**

It all passes in a blur. He doesn’t worry about the fog that shrouds his memories. It’s a coping mechanism he developed after he lost Toothless. A way to block out the hurt the overwhelming emotions. A way to keep sane during those days of absolute grief, guilt and loneliness after Toothless’s death. Hiccup never healed from the loss of his dragon bud and the two years he lived without him proved too much before he too died.

Hiccup blinked back into awareness when morning came and his new husband- still seriously weird, left the tent. It took him awhile to figure himself out but then he saw the chest with the eggs. He typically tripped and stumbled his way to get to the eggs. Again his eyes welled with tears- of course he’s a girl this time around, it’s reasonable. His hands trembled as they cupped the shell of the black egg and the light heat under his fingers told him it was no dream.

“Oh Odin! Toothless, it’s really you”

Hiccup doesn’t know how he knows, only that it’s true. In his old world the concept of magic wasn’t so far-fetched to believe. Especially since his best friend was a living breathing dragon. Plenty of stories used to reach berk about witches and spells. Princesses with magical hair and trickster spirits that could rival Loki. Once Hiccup even encountered a princess explorer who spun a tale of how her mother was turned into a bear by a witch. So yes, Hiccup was not a stranger to magic.

Nothing else matters.

Hiccup sobs and clutches the egg to his chest and whispers many things. Nonsense things, blubbered things, half choked words that make no sense to anyone who would hear him. He comes to his senses when the egg in his arms pulses twice. It takes a while for him to understand what Toothless is trying to convey to him. When he clicks, his head snaps up so fast he feels the pain of it in his neck. Its then he takes a closer look at the other two eggs in the chest.

One is the colour of cream gold and Hiccup gives a watery laugh at its beauty. The other has a sea green shine and he caresses it lightly. He picks the two up and clutches them closely along with Toothless. He knows these dragons, he’s seen them before, in his dreams. The two eggs don’t pulse as strongly as Toothless but he feels them all the same.

They are his new family.

Toothless thrums in his arms and the other two eggs do the same. Hiccup feels it in his heart. An inferno of love and joy that burns in his blood at this reunion. He places the eggs in the placing for fire and can’t stop the smile that spreads across his lips.

“I know bud. You’re not alone.”

_We’re not alone_

In this new world, dragons were feared and considered extinct. The Targaryen’s were insane- filled with madness. After reading of their history, Hiccup saw parallels that likened them to berserker’s. He only had to look at Viserys for an example. He remembers all he learned and studied about this new world of his. Quickly realising that this new beginning, this second chance would be no easy life.

“I’m a girl in this world Toothless. A princess- I should also add. Which by the way, also has an older brother- I’m pretty sure he’s crazier than Dagur and not in the good way. More so in the, he’s most likely to kill me seeing as he had no problems selling me. Oh and did I mention I’m married?” Hiccup near hysterically spoke to his new family of dragon eggs.

It was silly, seeing as there was no way they could respond. Yet Hiccup felt they were listening anyway and that was all he ever needed. Just someone to listen and Toothless was always that someone. The fire cackled and sparked a bit, and Hiccup insanely felt like it was Toothless trying to show him he sympathised and was angry on his behalf. Crazily enough, it just made Hiccup even happier.

“I missed you.”

Any other moment Hiccup and his eggs could have shared was interrupted by someone entering the tent.

“Khaleesi? Are you well?”

“Yes!” Hiccup instantly blurted earning him a questionable look.

“You do not leave tent?”

“I’m sorry?”

Hiccup had no idea what else he was supposed to say to that. The girl- one he vaguely remembered was supposed to tend to him as a servant or something other, seemed to grow concerned.

“The Khal wants Khaleesi to join. Khaleesi’s brother too want Khaleesi to come”

“Yes. My brother and my Hus-Husband” Hiccup paled suddenly.

At the reminder of his husband, the fog that shrouded his memories of the night and morning disappears. Hiccup is flooded with the memory of his wedding night and the early wakeup call he had that very same morning. Now, he may not be some blushing virgin- now in both lives, but sex as the opposite gender was completely and utterly different in all ways. Of course, nobody would ever really know seeing how changing genders isn’t exactly a common done thing.

“Khaleesi!?”

“No- Nope I’m pretty sure I’m going to be sick”

Any substance in his stomach made its way back up his throat and out his mouth right after he spoke. His retching didn’t stop for a long while until his stomach was completely empty. When he was done and ushered back to bed by the servant girl. Hiccup could only stare blankly for few minutes at the ground before he heard loud voices approaching the tent. Casting wide eyes towards his dragon eggs, Hiccup could do nothing but stare as his-….. Married half….. Entered the tent.

It was the first time Hiccup really looked at his-…… yeah….. With a clear mind. The man was huge, Intimidating huge and Hiccup felt tiny in his presence and- Is this how women feel all the time? He says something in Dothraki and Hiccup gulps nervously at the dryness in his throat.

“Why is it always me?” He lowly whimpers.

Clearly, getting Toothless back came with a price and if being a girl and getting married was the price then so be it. However, Hiccup knew enough tricks to ensure what happened on his wedding night and that morning won’t be a common thing. Especially without his say so. All that was needed now was to get the ingredients for it.

God’s be kind and let him succeed.


	6. Flower Crowns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I like this chapter but I do like Willas and Garlan's spoiling of Punzie. 
> 
> And yes, Punzie was a Queen before she died and was reincarnated. Same with Hiccup- he was Chief and full grown man, and Merida- She was also a Queen. Jack was a spirit so yeah..... he knew and lived longer than all three of the others. So yeaah..... that's what I got. 
> 
> Also: Tangled is just too funny- even as a 20 year old lolx

**[Rapunzel]**

Her brother is in Love.

Rapunzel reads through her letters from Loras thoroughly, scanning every word and sentence. She misses him fiercely and worries for him since he was sent to squire for Renly Baratheon in Storms End. Her brother Loras is flamboyant and filled with so much confidence she worries it would blind him. He is a gentle heart and easily won by praise and songs in his name. She does not know how to feel about Renly Baratheon- The man she is sure captured her brother’s love.

Love is love and Rapunzel sees nothing wrong with a man loving a man or a woman loving a woman.

Her concerns must have been obvious, as not long after Willas finds her in the gardens. His limp appears worse today and she absently hurries him to sit down and ensures he stretches his leg out properly as he rests. He says nothing about her doing so and soon they settle into silence.

“You seem troubled little sister”

Rapunzel sighs and plays with the ends of her hair. Twirling the locks between her fingers and nibbling at her lip out of habit.

“Maybe not troubled. Perhaps more concerned?”

Willas says nothing which only shows how well he knows her. As usual it never takes long before she bursts and spills every thought that whirls in her brain. She jumps to her feet and begins pacing back and forth. Her hands moving just as fast as her mouth as words spill out in a jumbled mess of hysteria.

“A-and what if Loras doesn’t want to come home!? HE could decide to stay away FOREVER! Also what do we even KNOW about this Renly guy? I mean sure his brother is the King but you heard what they say about HIM! M-maybe Renly is worse! What if they get married and Renly decides to never let Loras LEAVE and he refuses to let us visit!? Loras might be-“

“Margaery, sister dearest.”

“Yes?”

“Loras is a man now. I assure you, despite his tastes he would never allow himself to be a maiden in need of rescue. Besides, did you forget that our brother is a trained fighter?”

Rapunzel sighed, shoulders slumping due to the sense Willas was talking. Settling beside him, she plucked some flowers and began to create a flower crown. Her brother draws her attention by resting a hand on her head and ruffling her hair in affection.

“Most of all, Loras would never let anyone lock him away if it meant never being able to see you again.”

Rapunzel smiles and places the finished crown of flowers on her brother’s head. Beaming at the laugh he gives, and how he straightens proudly due to wearing it. Her worries do not fully leave her but for the moment she is appeased. Loras reminded her too much of the girl she was under Gothel’s care. Unaware of real dangers and the true cruelties people could harbour. She had done her best to make him understand but never knew if he truly learned anything from her efforts. Privately, Rapunzel knew she had not tried as hard as she could have.

“Are you again trying to selfishly hide our sister to yourself Willas?” Garlan proclaimed as he joined them.

Rapunzel gasped before jumping to her feet and rushing for her second eldest brother. He eagerly caught her and spun her round with welcome. From his seat, Willas simply rolled his eyes but his lips twitched with fondness. It was a really well known fact that the Tyrell brothers were entirely at the mercy of their baby sister. Yet no one could blame them, as the same could be said about the entirety of Highgarden,

“GARLAN!” She happily greeted

“Precious Rose of my life!” Garlan retorted causing her to laugh.

“And what gifts do you come bearing now dear Garlan the Gallant?” Willas japed

“Willas, he’s back that’s the most important thing. Why do you always expect gifts!?” She chided

“Because, he always brings gifts for you alone” Willas wryly stated

“Nonsense!”

“Although….. Just by chance, I came across the most curious thing. On a ride through the edges of Highgarden a flower bloomed and-“

“Oh truly brother. Flowers seem to bloom always in your presence” Willas muttered and Garlan cast a secret smirk towards his older brother. Rapunzel’s breath halting gasp drew their attentions again and the friendly competition between brothers halted in favour of watching their sister be happy.

“It’s beautiful Garlan.”

Rapunzel doesn’t know why her brothers always bombard her with flowers. She is always surrounded by flowers and she swears one day she may drown in them. Yet they always seem so proud when she wears them that she never says no. It’s Garlan who brings her exotic flowers that she can never find in the gardens. Sometimes he brings her trinkets and she hoards them away for the treasures they are.

It is also Garlan who braids flowers into her hair. Which is where the three of them are often found. Accompanying each other in the gardens with Willas reading to them and Garlan braiding flowers into her hair and occasionally making comments.

It is where Lady Olenna knows to find them. She takes a step forward, intending to announce her arrival but hesitates when her granddaughter laughs out. She hears plenty despite her old age, is still sharp in mind and cunning. Whilst proud of all her grandchildren, the only gifts her oaf of a son ever gave her that’s worth something, Margaery is different. From birth, Lady Olenna knew the girl was destined for something great. She had the makings of a Queen and was loved by everyone. The whispers in the wind about Kings landing tell her plenty. Dark times await all seven kingdoms and Lady Olenna intends for House Tyrell to be in the best position to reap the rewards of other’s follies.  

Her sharp eyes watch her grandchildren and she purses her lips. There is something pure about the moment the siblings are sharing, a bright light shrouding them like a ray from the sun. It warns her away, tells her not to bring such dark topics upon them just yet.

 And so she doesn’t, she turns and leaves children to be children.

Lady Olenna’s departure does not go entirely without notice. Rapunzel catches the expression her grandmother wears and knows that she is planning something. It alerts her to the possibility that her sweet and safe haven with her family is coming to an end. Her eyes shine with steely emotion that no one ever catches.

Once upon a time Rapunzel grew to be a Queen, and she learnt many things during her rule. She is well aware of this world’s Game of thrones. She holds no desires to rule a throne dripping in blood, betrayal and corruption but is not naïve to think she can avoid the game. So if winning the throne is the only way to protect her people- her family, then she will do it.


	7. The cold of the North

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course Theon is different because Jack thinks all children deserve a chance. Which also means Theon and Robb are not as good friends because of how Theon always taunts Jon and Robb is super overprotective of Jon. Merida is nothing like canon Arya and I have great plans for Sansa :) 
> 
> I still have no actually plans for this story, I literally just write and if I like it, it stays. SO i guess it's just as exciting for me as it is for you 
> 
> :D 
> 
> Till next time x

**[Jack Frost]**

Bran is practicing his archery.

His arm is shaking with effort and Jack can tell he is nervous. Robb stands beside him and they share a look with twitching grins on their face. Over seeing them is Lady Catelyn and their father. Rickon is comfortably watching from a safe distance behind them. Jack can’t help but chuckle at how concentrated Bran is on the target.

“He’s nervous” Robb mutters

“He’s fine”

“He’s clearly shaking”

“Come now Robb, have some faith. He’ll make the shot” Jack quickly retorts

Bran releases the arrow and it digs itself into the barrel instead of the target. Jack frowns and Robb’s lips twitch with mirth. They meet eyes and Robb shrugs but says nothing due to the warning in Jack’s eyes. Bran’s lips are pursed tightly and his frustration is obvious. Glancing upwards to where Lady Catelyn and father are watching, Jack sighs.

“This is really bringing down the mood” He mutters

 Plastering his most easy and reassuring smile on, He places both hands on Bran’s shoulders and squeezes to offer comfort. Bran peers at him and Jack huffs a soft laugh. An idea on how to get rid of Bran’s nerves forming. Leaning close to whisper lowly, Jack speaks softly so no one overhears.

“Don’t over think it. It’s just a game okay.”

“But father’s watching.” Bran whispered back

“Yeah… he is but…… right now you’re facing Pitch and his army. They have you surrounded, but you’re not afraid at all. You know why?”

“Why?”

“Because the guardians have your back. So it doesn’t matter where your arrow flies. In the heat of a battle sometimes an off target shot brings victory. So go on….. Try again”

Bran watches him intently, seeking to see if Jack is being honest. When Jack gives him a playful wink and a thumbs up for encouragement, he takes a deep breath and aims once more. The tension rises among them and Bran tries to focus, grunting slightly in order to pull back his arrow. He blinks and the strain is too much and faster than he anticipated his arrow is let loose and shot beyond the target and lost.

Robb starts to laugh and behind Bran, Rickon’s giggles are irritating. Bran’s cheeks are hot with embarrassment and he glares over at his laughing brothers only to notice that Jack is not laughing. Jack is staring with a gaping mouth and wide eyes of awe and Bran is confused.

“I missed, Jon” Bran mumbles snapping Jack to attention.

“What!? No you didn’t! You totally just hit a Nightmare horse in the EYE!” Jack exclaimed with incredulous excitement. Bran smiled and gave a laugh and Jack inwardly congratulated himself with a job well done.  It however didn’t stop Robb and Rickon from laughing, but thanks to Father it ceased immediately.

“And which one of you were a marksmen at ten?”

Robb immediately fell silent but the laugh still played on his lips.

“None of them. Why? Cause none of them can shoot an arrow for anything less than a crumb”

All heads swiveled to seek the new arrival and Bran despaired at having Arya witness him fail to shoot too. Arya joins them with a leisure gait and grin on her lips. Rickon stops giggling and eagerly jumps from his seat, scaring Lady Catelyn for a second. No harm comes to him as Arya readily grabs him despite her short and tiny form, with ease she holds him comfortably. She playfully makes monster noises and pretends to eat Rickon who laughs wildly.

“And what little sister? Are you going to show us how to do it? With your tiny arms and lady strength?” Robb teases, well aware that Arya is more than her tiny form suggests. The playful shove he gets in return shows she knows it.

“I could string you up with my own two hands if I wanted!” Arya boasts and Bran smiles whilst Jack outright laughs.

Jack rushes towards Arya and ruffles her hair causing her to scowl and shove at him with a grinning smile filled with teeth.

“Arya! A lady does not wrestle with men” Lady Catelyn sharply reprimands from above.

Arya rolls her eyes and mutters low so only Jack can hear.

“I’ll show her what a lady can do.”

Jack smirks and takes Rickon back to safety, tugging Robb along as he goes.

“Jon, are you sure she knows what she’s doing?” Robb mutters causing Rickon to kick him.

“You going to tell her she can’t” Jack muttered back.

The two brothers shared identical looks of ‘no way’ and turned back to watching. Arya was stubborn and fiery in temper, a fact everyone in Winterfell quickly learned to accept. Only the likes of Lady Catelyn ever attempted corralling Arya into submission. Not that it ever really worked.

“If you’re going to shoot an arrow, you have to concentrate” Arya began.

She moved Bran into position. Taking her time in ensuring his stance was solid and firm. Jack peeked over to where Lady Catelyn and his father were watching. He could see the burning anger in Lady Catelyn’s eyes at Arya’s actions but her lips were pursed tightly in attempt to stay silent. Although Father had a frown on his face, Jack was sure the emotions in his eyes were wistful pride and grief.

Jack had heard the whispers of those who were familiar with his mother. He knew that Arya was very much similar in looks to Lyanna Stark and that the wolf blood was strong in her. Perhaps even stronger than any Stark they could recall. Jack was inclined to agree, especially after the near political scandal Arya unintentionally caused.  A few Northern houses were still rather sour about the whole ideal, but Father was handling it well enough.

“Eye your target. Focus on the spot you want your arrow to pierce” Arya commanded

Her tone was soft but stern and Bran took a breath before obeying. There were onlookers, quieting down in order to watch. Jack couldn’t help but grin at the quiet Arya commanded. The way she commanded all those who heard her to listen and pay attention. Her mere presence demanded respect and obedience. The Queen she was in her previous life bleeding through into this new beginning.

“Notch your arrow Bran.”

Without question, Bran did just that. Jack could tell that Arya was impressing her audience, and didn’t even realize it. Many accounted her warrior nature to the training and time she spent with the Mormont’s but Jack knew better. Altogether, no one would dare doubt Eddard Stark’s second born daughter’s skill as a fighter. She was almost as skilled as his eldest sons, only Jack knew her young body stunted her from reaching her true skill level.

“Breathe and take aim” Arya guided, softening her voice so not to spook Bran from his focus.

Robb was watching intently much like Lord Stark. In contrast Lady Catelyn was visibly scowling at her husband and daughter. Jack tightened his grip on Rickon who was physically shaking with anticipation. The awe in his eyes sparkling with worship as he watched his brother and favourite sister. Jack smiled at the wonder in his eyes, unable to stop his thoughts drifting to his good friend Nick.

“Fire” Arya ordered

Bran released his arrow without hesitation. The thunking sound the arrow made as it pierced the bullseye of the target surprised him slightly. There was perhaps a second of silence before the entire courtyard burst into applause and congratulations. None of them as loud as Rickon, Jack and Robb who tackled Bran with excited hugging. Arya grinned roguishly with satisfaction and waited till her brother calmed before she playfully shoved him by the shoulder.

“A Knight in the making in no time” She praised

Bran practically beamed at her words before hugging her tightly. The Stark children made quite the picture and many could not help but smile as well. Well, all but a certain few. Theon Greyjoy stayed out of sight as he watched the Stark siblings and the envy and jealousy he felt was great. He yearned to be truly apart of such a family, a scene, but knew that he would always be a Greyjoy.

By chance, Theon looked up and caught sight of the only Stark sibling separated by the others. Red hair elegantly styled, posture straight and hands folded perfectly. Sansa Stark, the eldest born daughter, watched her siblings with dark Tully eyes. She truly looked like her mother but only a few knew about the wolf-blood she hid within. Sansa Stark was a wolf that many never saw, not even her own parents. Theon knew better.

Her Tully blue eyes meet his and he smirks. Mockery and sneer mixed and projected by his lips causing her to stiffen. She glares at him so fiercely he feels the sting of its cold burn even as she swishes her skirts and walks away. Theon cannot help but wonder at how different the Stark sisters are. His gaze turns to Lady Catelyn who is too focused on glaring at Arya to notice his stare. Theon wonders if Lady Catelyn realizes the rift she has caused among her children. After all he knows the true reason Sansa ensures she stays away from her siblings.

“Greyjoy.” Jack calls and Theon looks at the Stark Bastard.

They share easy smirks with each other and Robb rolls his eyes from his place behind Jack.

“Snow. Now what would the bastard of Winterfell want with me?”

Jack laughs and Robb mutters under his breath whilst glaring at Theon.

“For the last time Theon stop calling him that” Robb snaps and Theon scoffs.

“Theon doesn’t meant it Robb. Leave him be” Jack defends

Theon smirks at Robb and receives another scowl but both drop the topic. It took a lot of work for Jack to get the two friendly. When Theon first came to Winterfell he was aggressive and always baiting Robb into a fight. He had taken sadistic glee out of taunting Jack. To the point where Robb had almost sliced the Greyjoy’s arm off during a sword spar.

“What did you think of Bran’s skill with a bow?”

Excluding Arya, nobody was better at archery than Theon. As they talk, Jack notices a man approach his father. He continues to nod as Theon gives his opinion, but his attention is busy with the man’s words to his father. His days as a spirit led him to easily reading lips from far distances.

Jack is unaware of how his face slacks and his eyes glint with frost. He is not happy with what will come next and briefly his eyes seem purple in the light. If not for Robb, Jack would have stewed in his irritation which would turn swiftly into anger.

“Jon? What is it?” Robb prompts, sharing a concerned glance with Theon.

Though Theon and Robb are often at odds, their dislike for each other will always be pushed aside when Jack is concerned. As it is Jack who welcomed Theon like another brother into their family. The two always know when Jack is feeling less than happy as the cold of the wind seems to bite sharper on their skin. Neither have ever voiced it to the other but they have noticed it only ever happened when Jack was less than pleased. 

“One day Snow, your talent for lip reading will reveal secrets you’d have wished not to know” Theon lightly comments to ease the tension in the air.

Jack takes a breath to calm himself. Inhaling the sharp sting of the North’s cold air and feeling his temper cool once more. With great ease he slaps on a sad and disappointed grin on his face, just in time for one of the men to arrive.

“Lord Stark orders you to saddle your horses. A deserter from the wall is to be caught and executed. He has instructed that you prepare young Bran for the ride as well”

Both Theon and Robb share another look and internally grimace as understanding dawns. Jack simply thanks the man with a smile and waves him away. Bran is simply a boy of 10 years, a year younger than all three of them had been when they first watched Lord Stark deal with a deserter from the wall.

It was no secret that Jack hated children witnessing death.

 It was no secret at all that Jack favoured Bran most of all.

Theon shivers as Winterfell suddenly feels colder than usual. 


	8. A girl is a Stark of Winterfell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeaaah!! The idea's for this story is flowing and it is awesome!! When I first starting writing Merida, I really struggled with her and sort of hated writing her. Now tho, I quite like it.   
> I did say that Merida is not Arya so there are plenty of differences. Especially when it comes to her relationship with Sansa. The fact that both Jack and Merida are not actually Jon and Arya, is why their direwolves are named different. 
> 
> I hope I'm not the only one feeling for Theon though. 
> 
> Till next time x

** [Merida] **

She watches her father and brothers leave with a scowl. It bothers her that she is not asked to join. That she is told to stay back and attend Lady Lessons as if she is a child. Merida most of all feels annoyance at knowing it is due to her new mother’s interference.

“Arya?” Rickon whines due to her lack of attention.

Merida playfully lets out a groan, as if she is exasperated with his whining. The smile on her lips lets him know she is only playing. He grins at her and tugs at her hand, expectant eyes bright on her person. She is spoiling him, he is becoming much too wild. She knows that it is frustrating her new mother into madness.

Merida ensures Rickon’s wildness is never tamed.

“You promised you’d take me hunting.” He pouts.

“And I will. Have I ever broken a promise?” she fires back

He shakes his head vigorously with a toothy grin. Merida never hesitates to get Rickon whatever he may ask. She feels no shame in her actions and defiantly argues back when her new mother scolds her. Not even her new father bothers anymore to restrain or temper her. For that Merida thinks she can love her new father.

They are about to run, wildly chase each other through the halls of the castle and escape into the courtyard. There, Merida would saddle her horse and seat Rickon with her and they would ride around Winterfell and ‘hunt’. It is Rickon’s favorite game to play as they search the snowy plains or trees for the targets she had Jon, Theon and Robb hide. It helps train her skills in tracking and discretion whilst also being fun and benefiting Rickon.

Their plans are ruined when a high pitched shout is heard and Septa Mordane has them caught.

“Oh no you don’t young lady. You have lessons to attend and- WHAT IS THAT STAIN ON YOUR DRESS!? OH Lady Catelyn would be most angered at the state of your dress”

Merida attempts to run and Rickon pulls on her hand. Yet they are both small in size and their legs are not as long. Septa Mordane has Merida by her sleeves and is dragging her away despite Rickon trying to pull her free.

“NO! LET GO OF HER!!” Rickon is demanding, he stumbles when Septa Mordane stops suddenly.

“Rickon!”

Lady Catelyn stands before her youngest daughter and son and her face is red with embarrassment and anger. Both children glare and straighten rather than cower at her presence. Only Septa Mordane bows swiftly and greets her with respect.

 Catelyn looks at her children and she curses the strength of the wild wolf blood in them. There is nothing remotely Tully about her youngest daughter and Catelyn finds herself disliking it further each year that passes. Dark hair, fierce features and grey eyes the only child she’s birth that embodies the Stark’s looks.  Rickon has the Tully red hair and eyes but he is so wild, that Ned has often told her he reminds him of his eldest brother as a child.

Catelyn struggles with them and it drives her to hysterics. She looks to her daughter and see’s nothing but aggressive defiance and she wonders what she has done to get such a look from her child.

“Arya. You should be in your lessons. What are you doing on this side of the castle?”

Rickon answers before Merida can even open her mouth.

“She’s taking me hunting!”

Merida visibly sees her new mother’s eyes widen before they narrow with frustrated anger.

“She is most certainly not. She is to attend to her lessons on needle point and will do so without fuss”

Merida opens her mouth to argue but there is a look in Catelyn’s eyes that keeps her quiet. It is the same look, Merida remembers her first mother having when she had thrown her bow into the fire without care. She does not wish to remember or even think about the hurt of that moment. Though it is never forgotten and she stiffens at seeing it in Lady Catelyn. Only in this life she does not have a bow that she treasures with all her heart. Instead it is Rickon and Jon that she holds dearest and she knows that there is a risk Catelyn would use them against her.

“Rickon.” Merida calls and immediately he quietens and turns to her.

She feels a mix of pride, and smugness at knowing he values her more than his own mother. It intertwines with the surge of adoration and affection she holds for him. She pulls him into a hug and slips the wooden dagger she carved into his hands.

“You be a good boy now and listen”

Rickon eyes her carefully and Merida subtly taps at his hands. The silent code she taught him registering and he nods to show he understands. They both look forlornly at each other, as if they are to be separated for years rather than just a few hours within the day. She can see the surprise and pleased expression on her new mother’s face. She can tell that Lady Catelyn believes that Merida has finally allowed her to win just this once.

She is wrong but Merida will not enlighten her to such facts.

She ignores what happens next, keeps her grumpy expression on her face despite the lecture from Septa Mordane.

“Ladies do not frown, Arya”

“Well I’m not a Lady.”

“Not yet. And with such uncouthly behavior you will never learn to become one.”

Septa Mordane thinks Merida is too far behind to hear her low mutter.

“I pity the poor Lord your father arranges for your hand.”

Merida feels the anger in her roar once again but she stifles it with thoughts of Bear Island. She thinks of Lady Mormont and her daughters who fight like men and do not stress over being a ‘proper lady’ for the likes of a man. She wonders on how little Lyanna Mormont is fairing and misses the laughter of Dacey Mormont when she successfully disarms the men of her clan. It takes effort, but Merida forces herself to remember that she is a Stark of Winterfell.

“Welcome back Septa Mordane” Sansa greets with a small curtsy and a sweet smile.

Merida stares at her sister and cannot help but glare. When they’re gazes meet, there is no sweet smile for Merida, only a twitch of a lip in the corner and dismissive eyes.

“Such a perfect greeting Sansa.” Septa Mordane praises with a pointed look in Merida’s direction.

With ease, Merida rolls her eyes and collapses into the rickety chair, her legs spread and her back slouched. She ignores Jeyne Poole’s giggles at her display, as well as her not so quiet whispering to her sister.

“Arya horse face, unladylike as ever”

Merida grins unkindly.

“Jeyne Poole, annoying twit”

“Arya!” Sansa snaps with narrowed eyes.

The sister’s glare at each other and there appears to be nothing but contempt in both their eyes. Septa Mordane intervenes by shoving a cloth and needle into Merida’s hands and demanding she practice her needle work. Soon after the room is filled with Septa Mordane’s praise for Sansa’s work and her despairing criticism of Merida’s. All the while Merida loses herself to her thoughts, uncaring for the stitching’s she is supposed to practice.

As such she takes no notice of the glances Sansa sneaks at her person. She does not see the glint in Sansa’s Tully blue eyes that are nothing like the sweet smiles and polite words she gives.

Merida still does not know what she is to do with an older sister. In truth, she pays Sansa little attention, mostly because she cannot understand her. As she distracts herself with her thoughts, Merida reflects on her red haired sister. Sansa is everything Merida knows her first mother wanted her to be. A perfect lady with manners fit of a royal. Sansa- with her red hair and bright blue eyes- reminds her so much of the life she lost.

It hurts and angers Merida to look at Sansa for too long.

Septa Mordane steps out for a few and leaves the girls to their stitching. It does not take long for the pleasant silence to be disrupted by Jeyne who never fails to ready a nasty comment at Merida.

“Honestly, Sansa. I’ll never understand how you and _she_ could possibly share the same blood. Poor Lady Catelyn having to chase after such a wild beast.” Jeyne comments with a haughty sniff.

Merida snorts at the childish attempt of an insult. She’s heard and said worse having led her army of men and spent long hours among their company. There is temptation in her to be cruel and sneer back words that would ruin Jeyne to messy tears, but she holds back. Tempers herself with the reminder that she is a Stark of Winterfell and a Queen born again. She is above the petty jealousy games of children.

“My mother is a strong woman” Sansa says in reply and the sweet smile has returned to her lips.

Merida scoffs at her sister’s words in disagreement.

“Is there something you’d like to say? Arya.” Sansa grits through her teeth lowly.

There is so much Merida wishes to say. Sure, perhaps to Sansa, their Mother is a strong woman. A proper Lady who successfully embodies and fulfills the expected role she has been handed. But Merida has met and fought alongside stronger women than Catelyn Stark. She has met women who have won battles through words alone. Fought beside Warrior women- Vikings who flew on the backs of dragons. Queens of ice who protected their kingdom with the support of a sister rather than an entire army.

Lady Catelyn is a twig compared to the women made of mighty spears and swords, which Merida knows.

“Nothing sister. Simply that our thoughts on strength are so different”

They glare at each other and the tension in the room rises once more. She doesn’t mean to antagonize Sansa as much as she does. Merida simply does not know how she can open her sister’s eyes to reality. They are too different, both in mind and appearance. Merida thinks it a shame that their sisterly bond goes no deeper than the fact they share blood.

When Septa Mordane does return, the tension has yet to fade. It is a testament to how used to the situation those of Winterfell have grown when Septa Mordane pays it no attention. Sansa Stark is known to be the perfect lady daughter of Lord Stark. Whilst Merida’s reputation as a wild she-wolf and her warrior nature grows greater each passing year. The two so different, it does not surprise the people of Winterfell that they do not see eye to eye.

Merida snaps back to attention when Sansa hands to Septa Mordane her completed stitching.

“Well done Sansa. Oh how wonderful. You even managed to keep the spacing between each thread tightly laced.”

Though Sansa is smiling and softly waving off Jeyne’s praises humbly, Merida notes there is no true pride in her sister’s eyes. Sansa’s eyes do not shine like Rickon’s does whenever he is praised for any hard earned work he’s done. They stay the same, a polite and serene looking blue, which many believe to be humility.

Merida takes note and reminds herself to mention it to Jon when they next meet.

Septa Mordane is in the middle of lecturing both Jeyne and Merida on why Sansa’s needle work is so perfect, when they hear the thundering sound of chaos. Merida eagerly straightens at the sound and a grin begins to spread on her lips. She does not see how Sansa’s eyes sharpen and stares at Merida’s posture that has suddenly become filled with grace.

“What could possibly be-“

Septa Mordane never got to finish her sentence as the room doors burst open and a cluster of chickens were released into the room. The squealing, clucking and shrieks were loud and high pitched. So much so that no one noticed Merida slip out and snatch the curly red haired child that watched the chaos unfold with glee.

Merida could hear Septa Mordane shouting for help and aid from guards or anyone near. She could hear Jeyne’s scared shrieks of terror as the chickens ran wildly in the room. Merida couldn’t help but throw back her head and laugh. When they came to a stop and were carefully hidden from the sights of others, Merida squeezed Rickon tightly and peppered his face with kisses.

“Did I do good?” Rickon pestered with a wild smile.

“Good? You did amazing!! Jus’ ye wait until I tell Jon!” Merida praises

Rickon blinks and giggles at the slip of Merida’s way of speaking. He doesn’t know why she sometimes speaks a bit funny, has never heard her speak like such around anyone other than Jon and himself. He simply accepts that it’s something she does and loves her for it. After all Merida teaches him secret codes and always makes time for him. He loves her most and knows she loves him best.

Merida takes Rickon and together they escape the castle. They spend the rest of the day ‘hunting’ and exploring every bit of Winterfell all over again. It’s not until they hear the calls that Lord Stark and his company have returned, that Merida decides they should head back to the castle. Easily, she and Rickon intercept her new father and brothers, joining their final ride back to the castle on top her own horse.

“Arya? Rickon? What are you doing out here?” Robb exclaims when he catches sight of them.

“WOOHOO!!” Rickon cheers and Merida smirks at her oldest brother, despite the fact Rickon is standing on her saddle so dangerously.

“Beating you, obviously!” She taunts before snapping her reigns and racing ahead.

She arrives just in time to see her new Father, clamber off his own horse. Rickon eagerly greets him but she merely smiles at her new father. It is not that she does not like the man, simply that he is not her first father. Merida knows it is unfair of her to compare her new parents to her old, but she cannot help but do so. Before Rickon or Merida can speak, they hear the shouts of the Castle help claiming that they’ve found them.

“Why do their cries fill with me with dread?? What could you have possibly done now, Arya?” Ned mutters whilst giving Merida a stern gaze.

Cheekily, Merida mime’s zipping her mouth and gives her best look of innocence. She can tell there is grief mixed with his amused expression. Aware that she looks much like Jon’s mother. She can’t help but feel sympathy for her new father as it must pain him to see how she acts and reminds him of his dead sister. After Jon had told her off his parentage, and why the people whisper about her looks, she had used it as a justification to leave to Bear Island. She is thankful Jon let her fool herself then into thinking that was why she wished to leave Winterfell.

Any humour she felt about her situation dies immediately when Lady Catelyn arrives red faced with rage in her eyes. Rickon hides behind his father’s legs and Merida wonders if perhaps she had pushed too far this time.

“Welcome back” Catelyn stiffly greets but her eyes never leave Merida’s person.

“What is the matter Cat?” Ned asks but she never gets the chance to answer as the rest of his traveling company join them. Absently, Merida catches Sansa’s quiet arrival and wonders why her sister’s sweet smile looks tighter than usual.

“Mother! Look what we’ve brought!!” Bran excitedly shouts as he is helped down from his horse.

It is then they all notice that the Stark boys and Theon do not ride with empty hands. Cradled in their arms are bundles of fur and Merida initially believes them to be dogs. It is only when Bran is showing Rickon and the pup in his arms licks at her little brother’s face that she hears what they are.

“ _Wolves!”_ Lady Catelyn hisses

Merida rushes to where Jon stands, with an easy look of satisfaction on his face.

“WOLVES!” She exclaims excitedly and with amazement.

“DIRE-wolves” Jon corrects

_“_ NED! Tell me he lies!” Lady Catelyn snaps but Ned stays quiet.

Sansa moves closer to where her siblings stand with a spark of curiosity in her gaze. Rickon is already playing with the pure as night black pup. Bran cuddles the pup with soft silver grey fur whilst he pets the head of another. Robb himself is occupied with a pup of his own that is eagerly licking at his face. Merida looks to Jon and they share an unspoken agreement. Later they will meet as there is much to discuss.

“Father says we may keep them. So long as we care for them ourselves!” Bran eagerly tells Sansa.

Merida sees her sister hesitate to reach for the pup Bran is petting. That Sansa is not blind to how upset their mother is about the dire wolf pups.

“Here! You should hold this one. Robb said she’s a girl.”

Sansa indecision completely disappears and Merida can’t help but smirk at the awe in her sister’s eyes. She feels Bran look at her and she gives him a thumbs up for a job well done in including their older sister.

“Cute right?” Jon smiles as he squats beside Sansa and joins her in petting the pup.

Merida quietly watches their interaction, observing how her sister seems brighter in this moment. When the pup jumps at Sansa to lick at her face, the sound of Sansa’s giggles are like bells. Jon then chuckles and smirks playfully at Sansa.

“I think she likes you.”

What should be a sweet moment between the two, only fills Merida with sad anger. A feeling that grows as she watches Sansa pull away from Jon and cease her smiling. Merida’s attention is pulled away once more when she hears Theon snort beside her.

“Something funny Greyjoy?” She prompts

“Your brother is strange. I advise you warn him to keep quiet about his hand in Lord Starks decision to allow the pups to be brought to Winterfell.”

Merida hears the concern in his words and though she has little care for the Greyjoy hostage, she knows he means well when it comes to Jon. She also know's who he implies would be most angry at Jon's involvement.

“Dire wolves are no danger to the House of Stark” she replies earning another scoff from the Greyjoy.

Theon is bitter, he does not hide it. Even his words show that he is envious of the Stark children and their bonds. It worsens now that he watches them with their wolves. House of Stark proves stronger now as their children will walk with Dire wolves by their sides. Even Jon, the bastard son, is gifted a dire wolf to call his own. But Theon is still a Kraken among wolves and it is a bitter pill to swallow.

Merida watches Theon storm off, she feels pity for the boy. In doing so she catches sight of her new mother doing the same to her father. Again pity fills her, this time for her new father. There is a nudge at her leg and she looks down to see one of the dire wolf pups peering at her. It is a cute thing and she kneels to better pet it.

“You are in luck. There are 6 pups, 4 boys and 2 girls. It would seem the girls have claimed you and your sister.”  Ned comments as he comes to stand beside her.

All the Stark children look to him with smiles and await to hear what he has to say.

“Now you lot must promise to care for them yourselves. They are not dogs but wolves, and they most certainly should not be mistaken for pets.” He lectures and they all nod, but Sansa voices what they are all choosing to ignore.

“Is Mother allowing us to keep them?”

They all see their father grow grim before he sternly eyes them individually.

“Your mother will come around.”

Ned then leaves them to bond with their new pups. Merida watches him go for a bit before she looks down at the pup by her legs.

“Bet he knows what his fate will be” Merida mutters

She is surprised when the wolf pup snuffs and tips it’s head like it knows. She feels her expression soften and finally pets the pup. Already she knows what the name for her pup will be but she waits to hear what her siblings have named theirs.

“How about Grey-wind?” Robb proudly announces.

The pup he claims has smoke grey fur and eyes of bright yellow. Jon playfully smirks before petting Robb’s cheek with tease.

“Really thought hard on that one.”

The two squabble for a bit before stopping when Bran speaks.

“I can’t think of a name.”

They all hear the slight panic in his tone. Swiftly Jon switches his attention to Bran and easily cheers him with reassuring words.

“Don’t worry little guy. I’m sure he doesn’t mind waiting. It just shows you want his name to be extra special.”

As if to confirm Jon’s words, the pup in Bran’s arms licks his face and buries his snout in his arms. Rickon laughs and is in the middle of wrestling with the black furred pup with green eyes.

“You should name him wolf.”

“Um thanks but no thanks.” Bran politely declines

Merida smirks when she see’s Bran subtly roll his eyes at Rickon’s simple name.

“Well what are you going to name yours Rickon?” She questions.

“Mmhmmm…… SHAGGYDOG!” he proudly names as the pup attempts to bite at his face.

The siblings share a look that is both exasperated, fond and highly amused. Jon only makes it worse by seriously nodding and praising Rickon for his brilliant name choices. Though Rickon is her favourite, even Merida knows the name is ridiculously childish. So she shares a laugh and eye roll with Bran and Robb over Jon’s habit of encouraging childish things. She feels no shame in acknowledging she is a hypocrite when it comes to Rickon.

“Have you thought of a name for yours, Sansa?” Jon curiously asks

Sansa is still petting the same pup that Bran had given her. Already it seems the two have bonded and Sansa picks the pup up with little fuss. She holds the pup like it is a babe and Merida marvels at how well-behaved the pup is. Together the two make quite the image, a beautiful image and Merida once again thinks her sister capable of being royalty. She lays blame for such thoughts to Jon for his insistence that Sansa is much like a trapped princess hidden in a tower.

“Lady. I’ll name her Lady.” Sansa answers.

She speaks as if there is something else being said, and Merida ponders what it may be. Merida can’t help but feel slight disappointment in the name choice and she can tell Robb thinks the same. No doubt, Robb was opening his mouth to say something along the lines of ‘you’re naming your DIRE WOLF _Lady!?’_ but Jon stepped on his foot to keep him quiet.

“It suits her.”

Merida watches Sansa hide a small smile at Jon’s words. The sight of it only makes her more determined to speak to Jon later.

“What about you Arya? What’s your one’s name?” Rickon pesters.

Merida smirks and nudges the pup at her side gently.

“I’m calling her Willow-wisp.”

“Honestly!” “Like the story?” “Great!” Robb, Bran and Rickon simultaneously say.

She sends a glare at Robb for his judgmental expression.

“Like Grey-Wind is any better”

“Why do you want to name her that? In the story, if the Bear Hunter didn’t follow the will’o wisp’s she wouldn’t have turned her mother into a Bear?” Bran wonders and waits for her answer patiently.

Merida purses her lips and stares at the pup by her side. It stares back at her as if she can understand why Merida has named her so. Jon always loved to tell stories, many of them she knows are true, some she witnessed in her first life herself. It made sense that one of the stories he would choose to tell would be hers. Willow-wisp is fitting as it reminds her of the past life she lost. Reassures her she is Brave and tells her that destiny and fate is her own to make. Willow-wisp will help her look forward and remind her not to look back.

“It feels right” is all she says in reply.

“And I incredibly agree.” Jon adds lightening the somewhat heavy atmosphere she unintentionally created.

“And what of your pup?” Sansa softly inquires.

There is no moment of thought or contemplation, Merida can see that Jon already knows the name he will chose. She had not noticed the quiet little pup that had not left Jon’s side. A feat she marvels at for it stands out with it’s pure white coat and red eyes. It is so tame and well behaved, more so than Sansa’s pup. Silent like a spirit, a ghost.

“What? This little guy?” Jon theatrically motions as if presenting a prize.

“Who else?” Robb grins.

“Everybody, meet Winter! Winter child of Frost, meet everybody!”

Merida knows she shares the same expression of intrigue as her siblings. She can’t help but be impressed at how obediently the pup seems to bow to introduce itself.

“Child of Frost?” Sansa questions.

“Jon named their mother. Insisted on it actually.” Robb informs before asking Jon a question of his own.

“Why Winter?”

“Well, it’s simple really. This way whenever I call for him all will know…. Winter is coming”

As her sibling laugh along with Jon’s clever wit, only Merida smiles a sad smile at the name. She is the only one who knows the true reason as to why Jon specifically called his pup the Child of Frost. It both amuses and hurts to know that they both are choosing to use their pups as a way to move on and remind themselves of their past and present.

Merida steels herself as she already anticipates her talk with Jon to be filled with dark topics.


	9. Violation and Vulnerability

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't plan this chapter. It did this itself. As I mentioned before, the Big four had lives before they died. As in they lived their Happily ever Afters. Hiccup is pretty much grieving and so on in this chapter.   
> I also did some research, read the bits in the books and watched Daenerys and Drogo's scenes. I really do think it was more rape than anything lovey-dovey. Maybe in later scenes one can argue that the two made love but not in the first few.   
> It was weird to write this mostly because, Hiccup is from a kids show which barely touches on dark themes. I honestly felt kind of sick writing this because I felt like i was personally violating Hiccups character.   
> Adding in the fact that Hiccup is dealing with the gender change, it creates a pretty dark and emotional scene. 
> 
> Well..... I just hope none of you hate me too bad for this chapter.

** [Hiccup] **

Night is soon to fall, and they have already made camp. Hiccup winces at the blisters on his hands and the ache between his thighs. This new body, not used to horseback riding and his lower region still aching from the Khal’s taking. However none of that is what weighs on Hiccups mind as he enters his tent. Instead he hurries to where his eggs have been placed. He ensures they are warm and the candles are closely placed.

“Khaleesi”

Hiccup takes a second to respond, his fingers never leaving Toothless’s shell. It is a servant girl, one his mad brother enlisted to be his maid. She is staring at him, but Hiccup can see her eyes twitch as if they wish to wander to where his dragons rest.

“Hmm….” He distractedly answers

His mind is on other things. He is unsure on how to hatch Toothless and is less than willing to trust the way his Targaryen ancestors instructed in his books. There is also the fact that he does not speak the Dothraki language and therefore is lost to what those around him say. Let alone understand his husband, other than the grunts of pleasure that hides in his memories. Hiccup eyes the woven bag he’d made to hold the herbs he’d managed to identify on the road. He calculates the amount of time he has to create the sleeping drug before the Khal retires for the night.

“You must rest Khaleesi. The Khal will need you to be ready tonight.”

Hiccup swallows as the fog in his mind threatens to disappear and remind him what awaits. His fingers press harder against Toothless’s warm shell and he feels more at ease.

“I will like to be alone.” Hiccup commands but it is not as demanding as it could be.

He can see it in the serving maid’s eyes. She is amused by him- pitying as well and it stirs something in Hiccup. He’d forgotten the feeling of insecurity, of shame and paranoia. He is back to being useless Hiccup that never did anything right for the village. He grips at his arms, hugging himself, a habit that has followed him into this new life. It is then he is slammed with the reminder that he is not a boy any longer.

“Your brother commands-“

“You will **_leave_** ”

The switch of his tone startles her enough that she falls silent immediately. Her eyes are wide and she stares at him like she is shocked. Hiccup cares little about her reaction, only waits patiently for her to obey. He is too consumed with his own thoughts and feelings to contemplate the image he must have made.

Behind him the candle lit fire seemed to have burned brighter. The tent felt hotter and the flames of the fire sparked loudly. To the servant maid, Hiccup looked like a goddess of fire threatening death. It is no wonder as to why she quickly scurried out of the tent before Hiccup could repeat himself a third time.

Left alone, Hiccup curls into himself.

Every inch of him feels wrong. The skin he wears too soft- where is his scars? The burn marks from the dragons he fought. He feels flat between his thighs. He is missing the dangling weight that had always been there but he’d never noticed till it was gone. Instead he feels that weight on his chest. It’s heavier and they are bigger and- and-

Hiccup hears heavy breaths and realises he is struggling to breathe.

He curls his fingers- those are wrong too- too slim- too delicate. He stumbles backwards and topples a few of the candles that warmed his eggs. It’s enough to startle him out of his small panic. Quickly he is righting them, ensuring that nothing caught flame. He worries over the eggs briefly and feels himself calming the more he strokes their shells.

It is enough to settle his brain and calm his thoughts.

“Thanks bud.”

He kisses Toothless’s shell. He knows that in truth Toothless is but an egg and can do nothing, but it matters little.

Taking a moment, Hiccup breathes deeply and reaches for the knot of his clothing. As the material flutters to the floor, he slowly begins to familiarise himself with this new body. It is easy to caress his new soft skin and feel out the curves of his waist. Easy to test the strength of having two legs again instead of a stump. Easy to map out the width of his hips and cup the space between his thighs. Easy…….. To tell himself that thinking it so will make it true.

It doesn’t stop it from feeling wrong.

Violating in a way he never thought possible.

He is a girl. This body is his- his alone. He is doing nothing wrong in getting to know himself. However, still he finds himself pausing and muttering under his breath that this body belongs to him. It overwhelms him, the whole situation. He reasons that he is dealing with hormones of a different gender and getting emotional over little things is normal for women. Rationalising his situation until it is just another thing in his life to conquer.

“I am a girl. This body is mine. Everything is fine. I can handle this.”

It becomes a mantra and the more he speaks it the less freaked he feels. He thinks of all the warrior women he knew in Berk. Remembers Astrid and Ruffnut and how they easily rivalled men twice their age. He thinks of his own daughter and the hammer she easily lifted at two before he died.

Soon he is emotional for another reason.

His dad, Astrid, his daughter, the gang.

He will not be seeing them anytime soon. The truth of it hurts and Hiccup mourns the people he left behind. A loud spark from the fire drags him out of his thoughts and he looks to the eggs. He picks the three up and clutches them tight. It is a moment of weakness, where Hiccup lets his emotions overwhelm his logic and simply feels rather than think. Come morning he will be better as after all he has a new family to care for.

So caught up in his emotions, Hiccup is startled when the flap of the tent flings open and his husband enters. The Khal does not speak, only eyes Hiccups tear stained face and the eggs in his arms. Hiccup does not want to chance anything happening to his family in their fragile state and he swiftly places them down. He is aware of The Khal’s eyes watching his every move. When he is done, it is only then he realises he forgot to make the sleeping drug.

The Khal speaks in his language and Hiccup swallows at the intensity of the Khal’s eyes.

“I-…..Are you sure you don’t speak common tongue?” Hiccup warily voices

When his husband speaks again, he also grabs at Hiccups wrist and drags him to the fur skins. It is then Hiccup remembers another detail. He is utterly and irrevocably bare and the man above him is his husband.

“W-wait. Jus- Don’t”

The Khal is snapping something that sounds harsh- what Hiccup doesn’t know. All he knows is that he is being man handled roughly onto his stomach. He tries to sit up, pull away, voice that he doesn’t want to do **_THAT_** tonight (or ever). He doesn’t manage to achieve any of that as the sensation of being forcibly filled **_Burns._**

Hiccup tries to cloud his mind in the fog and forget- FORGET- **_FORGET_** this is real. Only the fog never comes and he _feels_ everything. It hurts- Hurts more than any burn or cut he’d received in his first life. It’s _dirty_ and **rough-** so much so he can feel the bruises forming on his hips. Above all else it’s the vulnerability of having this man- bigger and stronger than him- grunting and moaning his pleasure into his ears. The vulnerability and loss of control over his reactions- HIS BODY is perhaps the most damning of it all. Hiccup knows he does not like it but this body simply accepts the foreign member.

It’s the fact Hiccup had no say that is the worst of it all.

When it is over, and the Khal has exhausted himself to sleep. Hiccup carefully moves and settles on the floor. He cannot stand and he aches everywhere, more than before. There is blood on his hands from how tightly he had dug his fingers into his palms. His legs are a mess of fluid and blood. The bruises are already growing darker on his pale skin.

Hiccup attempts to stand but feels his legs tremble and so he stays seated.

Numb.

He feels numb again and knowing so stirs something in his belly. A heat of anger that is simmering- waiting so it can be released upon everything it touches. Dark thoughts enter Hiccups mind, thoughts that appeal to him the longer they flit through his thoughts.

Thoughts- Thoughts that will have to wait.

Stubbornly, Hiccup picks himself off the floor and covers his aching body. As the Khal sleeps, he works late into the night. Mixing the herbs he collected and writing down several of his ideas. All of it coded in Viking runes just in case a spy searches his things.

When the sun rises, Hiccup hasn’t slept but it is easier for the fog to cloud his mind. Easier for him to go through the motions of the Khal’s wants before he is dressed and placed on the back of a horse once more.

It is easier to float through the motions………….. At least for now.

As it is the last time Khal Drogo will ever touch Hiccup in such a way without his consent.


	10. Thorns of a Rose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much happening with Punzie as the Tyrell's don't really come into play until later. After last chapter, this chapter is thankfully less intense. Then again, in all reality only Hiccup is really suffering. Punzie is very much an emotional character and so she may seem weak in comparison to Merida and Hiccup. But considering she's the most optimistic and willing to see the best in people, I think being so emotional after losing so much should be justifiable. I'm also trying to show that she is flawed and slightly unstable mentally and emotionally. Not sure If managing that if I'm honest.
> 
> Lady Olenna is kind of hard to write, and no matter how I try Punzie and her just don't really mesh. I have plans for Willas but nothing concrete. 
> 
> As for when the Big Four will have their Reunion? That won't be for a long while. They still have the beginning of a war to get through. 
> 
> I'm sure you all have your suspicions about this chapter's ending though and I look forward to any comments you leave about what you think :P 
> 
> Thank you for the support. This story is gaining more attention than I ever anticipated.  
> xx

** [Rapunzel] **

Rapunzel dazedly stared at a bee as it landed on a flower. Around her were many cousins, all of them giggling as they whispered. It was not that Rapunzel hated their company……only……. It was all so boring. She remembered the days when she would dream in her tower of never being alone. Of having others- PEOPLE chatting and simply being there. Now…… it was all just boring. Meaningless boring conversation that had no value to life.

It was…….frustrating.

“Margaery?”

“Hm….?”

“What do you think?”

Rapunzel inwardly groaned at this particular cousins questioning. If Eugene had been here, she could already picture him rolling his eyes or muttering something rude but funny. She’d already swiped the flower broach this cousin had been boasting so often about. She could see the sneer in her cousin’s eyes despite the sweet hopeful smile on her lips. Her new cousins were nothing like Elsa or Anna, who were genuine with their words and feelings. For whatever reason, many of her new cousins were jealous and often competing against her.

It was the one thing Rapunzel found pure satisfaction and amusement in stealing.

Before, she wasn’t much for playing such manipulative games. Now, things were different and the thrill of manipulating a person for the win was somewhat addictive.

It certainly wasn’t boring.

“Pretty. I suppose.” She answers with sincerity.

She was not going to feed the girls ego.

“I was hoping it would be. It’s so hard to-“

“Oh do you ever shut up child? Away with you and your constant blithering for praise.” Lady Olenna snapped with a roll of her eyes.

Rapunzel ducked her head to hide the amusement she felt. All the while her cousins wilted and flinched. It was cute that they were so eager to gain her grandmother’s favour, yet wilted the second she acknowledged them.

“Margaery dear. Join me for a walk around the gardens. Might as well soak in the sun rather than continue with these useless babble of nonsense.” Lady Olenna ordered with a dismissive wave to Rapunzel’s cousins.

“Of course, grandmother.”

As she follows her grandmother, Rapunzel sneaks one last peek at her cousins. She tries not to giggle at the fuming anger on their faces. Mentally she tallies herself another win and basks in the victory of triumphing over her cousins.

Rapunzel almost loses herself again to the serenity of nature’s creatures. Enchanted by the caress of the breeze, the swaying dance of leaves. Her eyes were wide with fascination at seeing a Mother bird tweeting its sweet song. A lullaby to its unhatched eggs. The spell of nature almost had her snared and trapped in its beauty.

Almost.

Her grandmother was much too quiet during their stroll. The first sign that the elderly woman had schemes she wished to discuss. Lady Olenna saw great potential in Rapunzel, often treating her as an apprentice. Teaching her to twist and whisper words so her wants will come true. Rapunzel listened always. Not because she needed to learn, but because she thought it best to allow her grandmother to see what she wished.

Lady Olenna thought Rapunzel a budding rose in bloom, unaware of the thorns already sprouting on her stems so sharp.

“There has been news from Kings Landing.”

Rapunzel turned her head sharply at those words. Loras had written that Renly was to travel to Kings Landing. He had mentioned that he would be accompanying his lover. A prickle of nerves began in her stomach, nervous that something may have happened to her brother.

“What has been said? Is it Loras? Is he troubled?”

Lady Olenna huffs and ignores the warmth at seeing such concern between siblings. Though sweet, she needs her granddaughter to focus on other matters.

“It is not your brother that you should be concerned with. If Loras is less of a stupid oaf like your father, he’d known to keep his sword swallowing secret. So blatantly trailing after the naïve brother of the king like a bitch in heat.”

“Grandmother.” Rapunzel scolds with light anger

“Quiet, girl. We must plan the future of our House.”

Rapunzel furrows her brows in confusion. All the while dread fills her and the foreboding feeling of doom whispers in her mind.

“What do you mean?’

Lady Olenna comes to a stop where there is no one near. They are away from prying ears surrounded only by flowers and trees. Here in the quiet is where Lady Olenna whispers her plans to her granddaughter, with ambition bright in her eyes.

“The hand of the king is dead. King Robert rides to Winterfell, intending to make Eddard Stark his new hand.”

Immediately, Rapunzel’s mind whirls and connects every possible outcome. It takes a few seconds before she knows what plans her grandmother contemplates. There are only two possible ways of using this news to House Tyrell’s benefit. Rapunzel has no want to conform to such plans, especially as she knows what it will demand of her.

Lady Olenna is unaware of Rapunzel’s thoughts and therefore unaware of how far ahead of the game Rapunzel truly is.

“Since your birth I’d known you were destined for greater things. You my sweet girl will bring much success and promise to House Tyrell. I swore it before the god’s soon after you had taken your first breath. Every day since then you have proven me right.”

Rapunzel swallowed at the intensity of her grandmother’s scrutiny. There had been a few days were Rapunzel used to panic. Fearing that the elderly lady could tell that she was an imposter. A ghost who had stolen the body of a babe and lived its life like it was her own. She knew it was impossible for her grandmother to have a clue she was reincarnated- as it is a secret Rapunzel has not once voiced.

“You sweet child have the makings of a Queen.” Lady Olenna finished.

Rapunzel’s heart ceased beating for a second at those words.

“You flatter me grandmother, but I am no Queen.”

Not anymore.

“Not yet, but you could be.”

Rapunzel steps back with narrowed eyes that appear contemplative when in truth her mind is screaming at the implications.

Marriage. Lady Olenna is suggesting Rapunzel marry into the throne.

The prickling in her belly immediately turns to anger. The type of anger she’d first felt when war had been declared against Corona and Arendelle by Duke Weselton. The overwhelming feeling of rage that consumed her when her son had been stabbed and wounded. The fury that led to her leading a war and winning it with her words and cunning manipulation alone.

Outwardly, Rapunzel shows none of this. Instead she appears intrigued with the idea of being Queen. Lady Olenna cups Rapunzel’s face and strokes it affectionately. Her smile only grows when Rapunzel leans into the touch and smiles with a mischievous glint.

“You would be _the_ Queen.”

They soon after continue their stroll but the air between them is different. Lady Olenna is speaking but she has a satisfied gleam in her tone and eyes. Though Rapunzel appears the same, only she knows of the rage that fills her heart. It is a relief when she is allowed to leave and be left to her own devices.

Immediately, Rapunzel races to her hidden spot. A place only she and her brothers know of. A secret garden Willas constructed for her to cry freely without watching eyes as a child. Only they siblings know its location and once there, Rapunzel lets her masks drop and unleashes her anger.

When she feels calmer, her hands and arms are filled with scratches and blood. The rose bushes have been ripped from the ground and thrown about the place. She has ripped out majority of the flowers that had been planted and the exhaustion is hitting her. Along with depression and the urge to cry once more.

Marriage.

She has buried her fingers in her hair and tears have begun to fall. All that chants repeatedly in her mind is Eugene. Memories of Eugene, of her life with him. The love he and she built together and shared. She thinks of the sons she birthed, her babies that she left behind. She cries for the daughter she’d yet to give Eugene.

She cries for the Dream she never got to complete and the shattered pieces of her heart.

Pulling at her hair, she presses it to her chest.

She knows it will do nothing, her hair this time round is not magic.

But still…….. It comforts her and so she sings.

_Flower, gleam and glow_  
Let your power shine  
Make the clock reverse  
Bring back what once was mine

_Heal what has been hurt_  
Change the Fates' design  
Save what has been lost  
Bring back what once was mine

_What once was mine_

The ache is still there in her chest. The pain still overwhelming and nothing has changed. There is no magic to heal her this time. Rapunzel’s eyes are closed and so she does not noticed the golden glow at the tips of her fingers above her heart. She does not remember that magic is in her soul and will follow her in every life.

Willas does not dare move or make a sound. Hidden in the shadows where he had been quietly reading, Rapunzel had not seen him. Willas had seen his little sister cry many times, he’d never been able to understand what had hurt her so bad. Since she was small to now as a woman, Willas had yet to solve what was broken about his sister. The song she sung haunted him, echoing in his ears like a strange spell. Instead of revealing himself, he waits until she leaves.

Willas Tyrell is not a man known for his temper. In fact many know him to be bookish and recluse since being permanently stuck with a limp. That does not mean he does not feel rage and the need for blood. The tears of his sister mayhaps be the one thing that could cause him to feel such emotion.

Quietly, Willas investigates what his sister had done for the day. He knows he has figured out what upset her when he hears that grandmother had spoken to his sister. He clicks what spiralled his sweet sister into a mess of tears.

He vows to ensure she will not marry if she does not wish it so.

\---

Across the seas, a man jolts with a gasp and a name on his lips. All the while he is clutching at his chest with ghost of a woman’s song in his ears.


	11. Regrets & Mistakes Are Memories Made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me awhile to figure out how to start with the Starks. I'd just like to remind everyone that this fic isn't intended to be too serious. I honestly just write whatever comes to mind and have vague plans for it. I just wanted to jump start and inspire someone else to write a similar fic is all. 
> 
> Anyway, Jack is pretty much an old soul. Like imagine an old man finally getting his youth back and being young again. Also with how long he spent invisible i imagine he'd probably been pretty depressed and witnessed some dark stuff. 
> 
> Can't wait to hear what all you have to say about Sansa after this chapter :) :) 
> 
> Also hahaha it was pretty obvious on just who I ended the last chapter with. I'm curious to see how many of you get Sansa's connection correct. hehe. 
> 
> Yes the title of this chapter was taken from Adele's song 'Someone like you'. 
> 
> Next chapter will pick up from where this ended but in Arya/Merida's pov. I'm a bit busy but hopefully the next chapter will be done within the next 3 weeks. :D 
> 
> Thank you for the support and never stop sharing your thoughts I love it   
> xx

** [Jack Frost] **

Jon Arryn was dead and the Royal family were on their way to Winterfell.

Jack contemplated the possible changes that may occur. All while carding his fingers through Winter’s fur. He smirked at the pleased rumble the direwolf gave at his ministrations. The Godswood was quiet, and empty as the cold was much too fierce at this time of morn. All was quiet till a chilled kiss of the wind brushed his cheek and whispered in his ear.

The grey of his eyes hardened at what was said.

“Jon?” a voice called softly with surprise but secret delight.

Jack contorted his expression into a friendly grin and looked to the source of disturbance. His faked grin turned genuine at seeing his sister.  Sansa hesitated to approach him but her direwolf, Lady had no such problem. Jack didn’t bother quieting his laughter as the wolf pup leaped towards him and lavished his face in dog kisses. Ruffling Lady’s fur and cooing at her praises, he almost didn’t notice Sansa’s approach.

“Morning” Jack grinned, looking up at her from his place among the cold ground.

“How are you not freezing!!?” Sansa grumbled

Unlike Jack, who comfortably lounged in a simple tunic and breeches, Sansa donned a furred and thick cloak. She even wore leather gloves, but still could not stop the slight shivers she gave due to the North wind.

“Have you forgotten already sister dearest? The cold never bothered me.” He banters with a wink

He wins himself a tiny smile from her and he inwardly crows at his victory.

Of all his siblings, Jack has struggled most to bond with Sansa. The fault of it all being Lady Catelyn’s hatred and determination to isolate him from his siblings. Rarely does he get to spend time with her alone and speaking with her can sometimes span over monthly intervals. It has already been weeks since he’s held a conversation with her.

Still cold, despite her many layers, Sansa chooses to sit beside Jack. The ground is wet, and hard due to morning frost and the chill of the wind. Sansa ignores the voice that screeches in her mind- one that sounds awfully like her mother- and sits. Without prompting, the two direwolves snuggle closely to Sansa offering her their warmth.

The two simply sit and enjoy the quiet and cold of the Godswood in the morning.

Sansa wishes to talk, she has so much she wants to say. Yet no words come to mind and she is silent. It angers her that she can never find words to speak when finally in her half-brother’s company. She knows that it is jealousy that fuels her self-hatred. Jealousy over how easily her siblings bond and interact with their half-brother, but she never can.

Jack is only slightly aware of Sansa’s frustrations. He’s watched children and people for so many years. Studied them out of bitterness due to being an invisible spirit so alone. It is why he easily fills their silence. He is blathering on about the rumors he’d over heard about the Royal family when Sansa finally interrupts.

“Do you think they are true? The whispers about the King?”

Both know that it is not the heralded praise of the great Hammer wielding warrior King she refers to.

“I don’t know. Whispers in the wind are never without a semblance of truth. After all someone must have breathed such words to allow them to carry.” Jack muses

Sansa bites at her lip and her fingers curl into her sleeves.

“He’s going to ask father to be his Hand, isn’t he?”

“Most likely.”

“Father won’t say no, he can’t. Also King Robert is his good friend, Father will agree without much thought.”

Jack smirks, he can’t help but be proud of how quickly Sansa’s mind works. He knows that he is a key factor in why his sister’s mind thinks like so. When she had been younger, and her head was slowly being poisoned with fantasy stories of princes and queens. Jack had swiftly interfered, not wanting his sister to be blind to the truth of royalty.

Arya had threatened and terrorized anyone who dared wax poetic words about life as a royal. It had isolated her and fed her reputation as a wild she-wolf. It had also been the beginning of the two sister’s differing nature. Sansa had been enamored with the ideas of knights on white horses and marriage to princes. He will never be able to forget the horrified expression on Arya’s face the day Sansa confessed her dreams of birthing the prince’s babies.

To keep the peace between the sisters and stave off any future fighting. Jack had done everything he could to drive such ideas from Sansa’s mind. It hadn’t been easy and it took plenty of cunning, scheming and a few chaotic distractions. All of it worth the effort and trouble. Sansa was smart, her mind as sharp as a pointed blade. Jack had simply ensured such a mind never dulled.

“Father will do whatever is needed for Winterfell” Jack agreed

Sansa bit at her lip, upset that it would mean their father will leave. Winterfell is home, and she worried of how it would fare with their father so far away in the South.

“I don’t want him to go.” Sansa confessed

Jack sighed and the air around them turned somber. He idly resumed petting Lady’s fur, unable to offer any words of comfort. Despite his agreement, he could do little to influence their father’s mind. Though treated better than many would expect, Jon never forgot that to the world he is only a bastard son of House Stark. The truth of his origins would mean the death of his father and so it will be a secret he would never share with the world.

“Jon………If father leaves will you go with him?”

Jack can feel Sansa’s probing gaze and hear the hesitance and concern in her voice. It warms his heart to hear such concern in her words. The both of them know why she is asking such a question. She is worried that if he stays and Father leaves, Lady Catelyn will send him to the wall. A valid concern but one Jack is not bothered by. 

Jack laughs and it is filled with amusement, the sound of it is light despite the atmosphere. He looks so free and relaxed as he does and Sansa envies him for appearing so. When he quietens, she glares at him and waits for an answer impatiently.

“And leave Robb to lead Winterfell all on his own!? If ever I did leave, there most likely would not be a home to return to.” He jokes with a snicker.

Sansa rolls her eyes but there is a smile on her lips. As silence falls between them again, Sansa finds herself looking to the sky. Her mind wanders and she knows that soon her mother will be seeking her. She does not want to leave. Not yet, because her time with her half-brother is much too short and she has yet to hear the one thing Jack has given her that is hers alone.

“Tell me again.” She blurts.

Jack pretends to look exasperated and annoyed but the smile on his lips give away his act.

“Don’t you ever tire of hearing it?” He grumbled before flopping onto his back and staring at the sky.

“Never. I want to hear it again and only you can tell it to me.” She huffs

Only he can tell her because it is only he who knows it.

Sansa gets comfortable by cuddling into Winter’s coat and resting her head on Lady’s back. She stares expectantly at Jack’s form waiting for him to begin. When he lets out a dramatic groan she knows she has won and she grins. She watches him take a breath and the excitement she feels builds until its threatening to burst.

“Once in a Kingdom known as Arendelle, there lived a girl in a castle. She was a lonely girl- despite having a sister and parents, and many people who greeted her kindly. You see, she was a princess- the eldest daughter and heir to the throne. What many did not know was that this princess hoarded a secret.”

Jack loses himself to the story and is unaware at how intently Sansa watches him. He is never aware of how she stares at him and the way his face changes as he speaks. Jack does not know of how lonely and sorrow filled he appears every time he tells the story of the Snow Queen.

Each time Sansa requests the tale, Jack’s mind is lost to the time he’d spent as a spirit. A spirit helpless and aching for the lonely girl who imprisoned herself to protect her kingdom. When he first told the story, he’d done it as a way to distract Sansa from her fantasies of princes and knights. He’d not meant to get her addicted to the tale and he’d never planned on sharing his personal telling of the Snow Queen. He blames the fact that his mind had confused Sansa’s crying form that day with the white blonde child in his memories. He blames the fact that the lonely expression on Sansa’s child face had made him think of another crying child scared of her own power.

Jack does his best to stop the parallels his mind draws between Sansa and the one child he had wished in all his years to know and help. The one child he will always regret being unable to save.

“Despite how hard she tried, her little sister refused to leave her alone. For years the younger princess knocked on a closed door, pleading for her sister to come out.”

Sansa cuddles closer into Lady’s fur and thinks of Arya, wondering if she would ever do the same for her. She interrupts at this point as she always does.

“Why do you always forget the boy, Jon?” She grumbles

Jack huffs out an empty laugh and counters her question. He always regrets telling her the story from his own point of view. Never the less he always caves to her wishes.

“Why do you always ask for him?”

“Because he is there and no one sees him. It is cruel of you to try and forget him too.”

A chilly gust of wind rustles the branches in the sudden quiet. Jack does his best to ignore the clench in his chest and the dryness of his throat. He smiles but it is brittle and tense on his lips. He must take too long because Sansa speaks instead. It is the first time she has ever told the story to him and Jack finds himself left footed on what to do.

“The princess never knows that he is there. Always watching and yearning to help her. He tries for years to get her to see him. They share the same secret but she does not know because she cannot see him. No one does and he is a ghost in her life.”

The Godswood and everything around them is still- as if holding its breath. It is haunting to hear Sansa speak the rest of the tale.

“He talks to her everyday but she never hears. He tries to hold her and comfort her with touch but phases through each time. He screams her name when the night taints her dreams but she never wakes. He fights to save her from herself but always fails.”

Sansa whispers quietly as if afraid to disturb the quiet around them.

“The Winter Ghost and the Snow Queen. A love that never was.”

Jack does not say anything but there is a bitter smile on his lips. His expression is dark and cold, and his eyes appear old with grief and pain. Sansa wants to know why her half-brother never denies her requests for a story that brings him so much pain to tell.

“I had thought it was I who was to tell the tale?” Jack drawls with a smirk that is forced.

Sansa hesitates but then gives a small smile in response.

“You were telling it much too slowly.”

Jack chuckles before staring at her inquisitively.

“Will you ever tell me why you love the tale so much?”

Sansa takes a second to reply, wanting to formulate her answer properly. In truth it is hard to explain why the story of the Winter Ghost and Snow Queen is an addiction of hers. It was tragic and sad, there was no romance and they do not even truly meet. The Snow Queen never marries and dies alone but content with her life. Never knowing about her invisible guardian. The Winter Ghost remains a ghost and continues to live a life of invisibility for a few hundred years. There is no glory, or epic romance, no princes or dragons to fight.

Just two lonely children.

“I don’t know why I love it so much. Only that I do.”

The lie rolls of her tongue so easily and she does not even blink. Jack looks as if he wishes to comment but they hear in the distance the sound of the guards. They both hear the call of her name and they scramble to stand. Clearly Lady Catelyn has sent the guards to find Sansa and so their time together must end least they ignite her wrath.

“One can always trust your mother to worry for her children’s whereabouts” Jack snickers but doesn’t quite manage to hide the bitterness in his tone. He clicks his tongue and Winter trots to his side.

“Remember Sansa, I was never here” He teases before waving to her and increasing the distance between them.

He leaves Sansa alone in the Godswood, accompanied by Lady and the cold air. Sansa curls the hand she’d subconsciously reached out with, a half way plead for her half-brother not to leave. She tries her best to stop the shaking of her body and the fear that claws at her throat. It’s only when Lady brushes against her as if to remind Sansa she is still beside her, that she calms slightly.

_‘Once again little dove, you’ve chosen not to speak of me. How selfish of you, my sweet dear.’_

A sudden gust of wind barrels through the trees and causes her cloak to flare. It chills her to the bone and Sansa forces herself to pretend she heard nothing. Forces herself to pretend she does not see the shadows that lurk behind the trees despite the Light that floods the woods. Most of all she tries to forget the dark whispering voice in her mind. Especially the dreams that haunt her. Dreams off a white blonde girl who wears gloves and a white haired boy who wears no shoes. Two lonely children who could both create snow with their own hands.

When she finally moves, only Lady’s keen animal sight catches a glimpse of the black sand wisps that follow after Sansa.  

\---

Bran peers eagerly over the edge of the castle top, ignoring the cold wind that chills his cheeks. His eyes scan the road excitedly for the Royal party set to arrive. Jack pulls him back with a gentle tug and a stern look.

“Not too close to edge Bran” He warns

“Sorry Jon. It’s just so exciting!”

The pure joy on his face is enough to have Jack grinning as well. The reincarnated spirit can’t help but join in with Bran’s childish excitement. The feeling too contagious to be contained. He knows they would be cutting it close, but Bran’s happiness is worth the trouble.

“Jon LOOK! I see them! I see them coming!!” Bran exclaimed

Sure enough, in the distance Jack could make out the Royal travelling company. He allowed a few more seconds of gazing before patting Bran’s shoulder.

“Come on, we have to hurry down now or risk your mother catching us.” Jack spoke with a grin.

Following closely behind Bran, the two scaled their way down the Castle. Jack loved the sight of Bran’s easy grace as he walked along the castle roof tops without hesitation. The confidence of his steps and the ease of his moves filled Jack with pride. Bran was a master climber and it showed. It was harder for Jack to easily move on the roof tops, mostly because of his weight and height. Even with no shoes on, it was a bit of struggle.

Still, it didn’t stop him from following his little brother to the top. Just to be extra sure he’d be able to catch Bran if he ever did fall. It reminded Jack of the time he and the guardians had raced to give all the children of the world their tooth money. The smile on Jacks face turns bittersweet but he hides it when Bran looks back to check he is following.

Of course, all good things must come to an end. Their spirits dampen when they are finally on the ground once more. Lady Catelyn is glaring at him and he can feel it without even looking. He busies himself with his shoes, slipping them on just in time to receive the stinging slap on his face.

“You dare let my son climb those walls!” She hisses furiously.

Jack says nothing but meets her gaze without blinking. Whatever she sees reflected in them must anger her more as she raises her hand once again.

“Mother please!” Bran cries before pulling on her dress.

Seeing Bran distracts her and she forgets about Jack and directs all her attention to her son. Jack rubs at his cheek and stomps in his boots to fit them on properly. The sting of his cheek barely registering as he focuses on grinning and winking to reassure Brandon he is fine. He ignores Maester Luwin who is staring at him.

“How many times have I told you NO climbing” Lady Catelyn scolds, doing her best to calm down.

Bran hesitates but bravely speaks up.

“I-I wanted to see the King. He’s coming right now, down our road. It was my idea and Jon-“

He cuts off immediately when he notices his mother’s eyes widen again with anger. She bends to his height and looks him in the eye with forced calmness.

“I want you to promise me. No. More. Climbing.”

Bran doesn’t want to promise such a thing. Climbing is the one thing only he can do. It’s the one thing only he and Jack can do together without anyone else. He crosses his fingers and promises, a lie that is given away when he bows his head.

“Do you know what?” Lady Catelyn stiffly speaks

“What?” Bran meekly pipes

“You always look at your feet before you lie.”

The silence that settles over all of them is stiff with tension, and Bran fidgets under the pressure. Lady Catelyn takes a breath and looks to where her husband’s bastard stands. Her temper flares once again and she forces herself to speak her next words calmly.

“Run and tell your father. Tell him the King is close.”

Bran looks to Jack and is given an urging wave. Though he listens, it doesn’t stop him for looking back as he runs. Jack keeps his eyes straight ahead as Lady Catelyn glares at him.

“You should thank the gods that no harm had become of him. Or else I would have had you punished and sentenced to the wall” She hisses lowly

Jack tries, he really does but he cannot help the disappointment that seeps onto his face. He bows his head in apology and lowly responds.

“I would never let harm befall on a child- or even dare wish it so”

Lady Catelyn rears back as if she’d been struck, her face pale. Jack does his best not to let his satisfaction show on his face. His efforts are wasted as it doesn’t completely hide the darkness in his gaze. Hastily, Lady Catelyn distances herself and leaves to join the greeting party.

Jack watches her departure and feels no guilt for his words. When he finally gathers his wits, he realizes that Maester Luwin is still staring at him. He tips his head in a friendly greeting and the Maester responds just as friendly.

Maester Luwin watches Ned Stark’s bastard son with intently focused eyes, wondering why the Lady Catelyn had responded as she had to whatever the boy had said. He entertains the suspicion that Ned’s Bastard son holds some sort of leverage over Lady Catelyn. The thought worries him.

\---

The Starks are lined up and wait patiently for the Royal family to arrive. Despite the supposed happy occasion not a lot of faces are smiling. Lady Catelyn is stiff with tension and her face pale and blank. Ned is nervous, anxious that his greatest secret will be revealed once Robert catches sight of his sister’s child.

Robb is irritated, annoyed that he’d had to shave and paranoid that something is stuck to his back due to Theon’s snickering behind him. Sansa appears to be day dreaming, her mind lost to her own thoughts. Regardless she stands like a proper lady waiting patiently to greet their guests. Beside her, Arya and Rickon are playing a silly hand game. One only they seem to know the rules to. Nobody would ever suspect the two to actually be carrying a secret conversation through code. Finally there is Bran who stands at the end of the line as Rickon had pushed him aside to stand beside Arya.

Bran can’t help but keep peering over to where Jack is standing. Although Jack appears entirely fine as he laughs and whispers with Theon, Bran can still see a slightly pink hand print on his face. He’d heard Jack lie to their father when he’d asked about it, saying it was the cold wind from their climb. A terrible lie because everyone in Winterfell knew that Ned Stark’s bastard boy never got cold.

“They’re here!” A man announces

All attention is given to the Royal family who ride into Winterfell.

Jack peers carefully at the King who started a war for his Mother. From his memories as a babe, Jack remembers a loud man with a strong jaw and heartbroken rage in his eyes. The man who moves to greet his father looks nothing like him. The King is round, equal in shape to his jolly friend Saint Nick. The King’s clothing looks too tight on his robust form and his breath is heavy and loud. Above all else, Jack can’t help but think the man looks broken- empty and without purpose. Pity fills him as he looks at the King as Jack knows what pain it can bring to men like King Robert. He thinks it a great shame that a man like him is now wasted.

When King Robert motions for them to stand, Jack can’t help but curiously watch the exchange between the two friends. He studies his father’s face as he stares at the man his best friend has become. He does the same with King Robert, slightly concerned at how intently the King is staring at his father.

“You got Fat.” The king bluntly states with judgement.

Jack has a 2.5 second moment of shock before he is biting his tongue to keep his laughter in check. The shove he gets from Theon calms him slightly but the grin on his face does not fade. Even more so when he catches a glimpse of the outrage on his other siblings faces.

“Father’s not fat.” Rickon whispers a little too loudly to Arya.

Everyone freezes, holding their breath in fear at how the king may react. King Robert turns his head so fast and stares down at Rickon with a very intimidating gaze. Jack frowns and wants to step forward but Theon is holding him back.

“What did you say boy!?” The king snaps

Rickon flinches and steps back gripping tightly at both Arya and Bran’s cloaks. From where he watches, The Hound finds it interesting how all of the Stark children seem to step forward. Even the soft looking little Lady Stark has moved forward. Lady Catelyn and Ned both open their mouths to apologize for Rickon’s comment and beg forgiveness for the rude comment. Before they can another voice speaks up.

“He said our Father’s not fat”

The words are spoken clearly and filled with defiance. All eyes then turn to look at the speaker, and Sandor Clegane feels like laughing at the stupid show of bravery. He catches the rage on Prince Joffrey’s face and rolls his eyes inwardly when the bratty prince speaks.

“How dare you speak to-“

“SHUT UP BOY!” King Robert snaps and silence reigns again.

Robert shifts his gaze to the short, dark haired girl who has stepped protectively in front of her brother. The King is thrown back into past memories of a Stark girl with the same glare in her grey eyes. His breath catches and he almost breathes Lyanna’s name. Almost, because milliseconds after the thought, Robert sees all the ways this child is nothing like his dead love.

Arya is grinning cheekily at the King, with mischief shining in her eyes. She is channeling her inner Jack and prays to whatever power is out there that her gamble will work. As she distracts the King, Bran has been slowly urging Rickon out of sight and closer to where Jack has moved. Both Theon and Robb rest their hands on their swords, whilst Sansa has moved closer to Arya and is smiling her sweetest smile.

Robert eyes Arya a few seconds longer before breaking the tense silence that has fallen.

“Then what is he, seeing as you boldly claim that I, your King, is wrong.”

Robert’s words sound threatening and Joffrey is grinning maliciously with anticipation. Many eyes are darting to where Ned stands, deathly still and tightly clenching his fists in worry.

“He’s simply well fed your grace” Arya pipes with a cheerful smirk

Ned and Catelyn stare at Arya with shock- as does everyone else. Even her own siblings are staring at her as if she has lost her mind. Only Jack is not surprised, instead he has managed to ensure that Rickon is firmly by his side. Then they stare at the king who leans back and roars with obnoxious laughter. Altogether the spell is broken and everyone is laughing uncomfortably along with the King.

“Well said, well said.” Robert praises as he wipes the tears of mirth from his eyes.

“You’ve a wild wolf for a daughter Ned.” Robert comments and if his tone is slightly wistful no one calls attention to it.

“Even I have trouble taming her.” Ned laughs but it is awkward.

“I apologize your grace for her rude manner” Catelyn quickly adds but her eyes are glaring with fury at Arya.

“No matter, tell me your name girl.” Robert demands

“Arya Stark”

Robert laughs again at the blatant pride and defiance in how she speaks. He looks to the rest of the Stark children and points a stubby finger at Robb.

“And you boy, you must be Robb.”

Robb nods and they shake hands, Robert grins with a little more amusement at how tightly the young Stark grips his hand. His gaze turns to Sansa and he notes how strongly the Tully features shine. She will be a great beauty, he knows it already despite her being a child still.

“A pretty girl Ned, all Catelyn’s doing I’m sure. Sansa I believe?” Robert jests as Sansa smiles and curtsies.

Bran humbly grins when he is named and Robert laughs at the sight.

“And what would be the name of the boy who boldly spoke against me?”

Robert looks at Rickon, well aware of the fear the boy must be feeling.

“Come on boy, speak up. What is your name?” Robert prompts sharply with little patience.

Rickon doesn’t want to speak and he leans into Jack’s hold a little more. Jack doesn’t need to look to his father to see the pale fear on his face. He ignores the stern order in Ned’s eyes to keep silent and call no attention to himself. Jack was never one to listen to orders and so he easily opens his mouth and speaks.

“His name is Rickon, your grace.”

Jack meets Robert’s gaze without fear. The king is so distracted with Jack that Arya stealing back Rickon and hugging him close goes unnoticed. Jack smirks as if he and the King are friendly companions. It’s ballsy but Jack can’t help but feel like he is standing before his friend Saint Nick and not King Robert.

Robert is astonished and thrown back to past memories of a young Ned smirking much the same after a night of mischief.

“My god, you look just like your father.” Robert laughs unaware of how deeply his words sting Lady Catelyn.

“And you look much like a King” Jack returns and Robert laughs harder- almost hysterically.

It is all too much, the onslaught of nostalgia and regrets that drown him. Robert can only find it in him to laugh in the face of it all. He misses the old days, he misses the thrill of battle and the freedom to do what he wants without care. When he turns from Jack and looks to his old friend, he does not notice how everyone relaxes with relief.

“Nine years. Why haven’t I seen you? Where the hell have you been?” Robert roughly grumbles

“Guarding the North for you, your grace. Winterfell is yours.” Ned readily replies.

There is a bitterness in both Ned and Roberts’s expression. A forlorn heavy expression filled with regret, guilt and pain. With everyone being so distracted by the Stark family and King Robert’s exchange, nobody really noticed Queen Cersei leaving her carriage.

No-one except Sansa who had been eyeing the carriage throughout the exchange. As such only she managed to catch the ugly face of disgust and disdain the Queen made. One that melted into anger when the Queen noticed none had noticed her exit from the carriage. Not even her own twin brother. Sansa lowered her gaze careful not to be caught observing the Queen.

“Take me to your crypts, I want to pay my respects.”

The king speaks softly, many are surprised he can manage such a tone. Ned finds himself sagging as well and nods. Both had completely forgotten that the rest of the Royal family had come to Winterfell as well. As such they both startle when Cersei’s sharp tone speaks curtly.

“We’ve been riding for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait”

Though she is beautiful and her words are sympathetic, Jack hears the hatred hidden within her words. Already he knows the Queen will be a problem. Theon nudges Jack and subtly gestures to where Prince Joffrey is eyeing Sansa with dark eyes. Jack narrows his own gaze and mentally notes the Prince as another problem.

All eyes are on the King, waiting to hear his response. They all witness King Robert ignore the Queen as if she was not even present and wait for Ned to follow. Queen Cersei turns her gaze to Ned and dares him to obey the king.

“Ned.” Robert barks sternly before turning and leaving.

All witness as the Lord of Winterfell, bows his head to the Queen and follows after the King.

Theon sighs and lowly lets out a chuckle beside Jack.

“That’s not good.” Jack mutters as they both watch Lady Catelyn do her best to appease the rest of the Royal family.

“Want to bet on the chances the King will be lonely in his bed tonight?” Theon muttered

“Suckers bet. No deal.” Jack smirks

Any light hearted banter they may have shared is derailed when Robb signals for them to follow. Both Jack and Theon sigh but nod and begin to sneak away. No one even notices that all the Stark children have disappeared along with the Greyjoy and Bastard boy.

Deep in the crypts both Robert and Ned lose themselves to memories of the past and confess past regrets. Whilst Lady Catelyn escorts the Queen and her children to their guest chambers. Finally, the Stark children, Greyjoy and Jack have gathered in the Godswood, to have a meeting of their own.


	12. Anger, Vengeance and the Poison of Rage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have officially started giving other character's point of views. Each chapter will Start with one of the Big four, but others will now be getting their own povs :) 
> 
> In regards to Lady Catelyn- Yeah I don't ever intentionally bash characters, and I know some might find her a bit OOC. However this Catelyn had to raise a reborn Merida who was once a Warrior Queen and a major rebel. This Catelyn is much more bitter and hateful towards Jon because he is loved and praised by alot of the Northern folk. This Catelyn has a dirty secret that will come to light in later chapters. SO I am not going to feel bad about the way I've written her. This Ned and Catelyn never grew to love each other like the show, they only had a agreement which is why their marriage is strained. 
> 
> Robb: He has a reason for his ways. This Robb is spoiled and possessive, he is not as naive as the show version. He is darker, reckless and more ruthless than cannon. It is not just because of Jack and Merida that he is different. THERE IS A REASON, AND IT WILL BE REVEALED IN LATER CHAPTERS!
> 
> Robert and Ned: Yeah I didn't mean to write Robert so buddy buddy with Ned. I was trying to keep him like canon, but he just refused to come out that way. I like Robert and always thought his obsession with Lyanna had more to do with Ned. I just went with that angle instead.
> 
> This chapter is I think the longest chapter i've written for this fic, so I hope you all enjoy it :) 
> 
> I know this is still a Game of Thrones fic, and despite my hesitance because these are disney characters, this fic is going to get darker.   
> Especially next chapter as it will be from Hiccup's point of view. 
> 
> XTHANK YOU X

**[Merida]**

Merida stumbles and almost falls when Sansa pulls on her cloak. The sudden force choking her slightly and igniting her anger instantly. She pulls her cloak free and glares at her sister with furious eyes.

“OW! What was that for!?”

“Are you mad? Are you so stupid to openly challenge the King?! You could’ve gotten Father in trouble, OR WORSE!” Sansa spat furiously.

“And leave Rickon to face the King! He was scared and would have looked a fool. You think I care about a fat King’s reputation when **_MY_** little brother is scared.”

Merida finds herself feeling slight joy at the way Sansa’s pale face grows red with fury. The two sisters glare at each other, anger sparking furiously between the two. All the while, Sansa tries to quiet the absolute fear she felt watching her siblings so casually address the King. Merida only see’s the anger in her sister’s eyes and does not notice the way Sansa is shaking and trembling with pure terror.

“I don’t care about some Fat King and his yellow haired Queen. Winterfell is our home and-“

Merida does not get to finish her angry rant as a hand covers her mouth and pulls her tightly to their person. She fights them furiously, kicking and flailing her arms. Her anger only intensifies when she realises it is her brother Robb holding her close.

“Do you wish to be overheard, little sister!?” Robb hisses

Merida kicks out again, elbowing and fighting against Robb’s hold. She hears him grunt in pain and knows she is hurting him but still he does not release her.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed by speaking such insults against the Royal Family!?” Robb snaps angrily.

Merida manages to move her head enough so she can bite at the hand that covers her mouth. Robb lets her go with a shout, and Sansa screams out her name in shocked anger.

“I DON’T CARE!” she snarls between heaved breaths.

It’s then that Theon and Jon arrive on the scene. She barely notices, too busy glaring with anger at her older two siblings. On the side, Rickon is hugging Bran with teary and guilty eyes- afraid that he is going to be punished by Robb and Sansa. Bran is doing his best to comfort Rickon but can’t help but cringe and move away from where his older siblings are fighting.

“QUIET! Keep your mouth shut Arya or dare risk one of your father’s men over hearing us.” Theon growls.

The Stark children, fidgeting and squirming with individual unease due to what had just happened, all look downward after hearing Theon’s growled words. The anger in her was simply too great to be quelled, by his warnings. She snarled and on her tongue were cruel words with the intent to hurt.

“Whoa, now hang on guys.” Jon immediately intervened.

Jon’s presence brought with him a cooling calm that eased the tension among them all. He’d clamped a hand over Merida’s mouth and tapped her nose. Despite the irritation that still wished to be released, Merida forced herself to calm.

“Seriously, what’s with all the rage?” Jon smirked with a light hearten chuckle.

Merida scowled and took several calming breaths. She knew that Jon wouldn’t let her free unless she calmed. The cold of his flesh helped ease the rage in her blood, and her anger faded. When he tapped her nose twice once more, she begrudgingly nodded to assure him she was calm. Slowly he released her and she swiftly opened her arms so Rickon could rush into them. Instead, Merida concentrated on the warmth and tight embrace Rickon had around her person. She chose to ignore Sansa and Robb, knowing that if she spared them a single thought the rage in her would return.

She left them for Jon to calm.

_‘I’m sorry.’_ Rickon tapped through their coded language.

Bending, Merida narrowed her eyes and tapped her reply.

_‘Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong. The King is a fat man. You spoke the truth.’_

He giggled and so she smiled. Now that she was sure, he was no longer hesitant or worried, she tuned back into whatever the others were discussing. Robb and Theon were lost to another round of insults, scowling and sneering at each other as per usual. Bran was fidgeting cautiously on the side lines. Merida however noticed how his gaze kept glancing over to where Jon and Sansa were talking. There was concern, guilt and perhaps maybe something that looked like anger in his eyes.

“Bran?” she softly called.

The way he jumped at her call, made her grimace with shame. Merida always knew she’d failed Bran as a sister, she’d been unfair to him- but she had hoped they had grown closer lately. Evidently she must be wrong if he still looked at her with such cautious eyes.

“You keep looking to Jon. I assure you he’s fine.” She tried to comfort.

Bran gave her a short smile but it looked more like a grimace. Robb and Theon had been close enough to hear and didn’t hide or bother to pretend they weren’t eaves dropping.

“Why do you keep looking to Jon?” Theon suspiciously pointed out, all the while scanning Jon with his own eyes.

Robb glared and harshly elbowed the Greyjoy before bending to meet Bran’s hesitant gaze. Again, Merida notices how hesitant and cautious Bran’s eyes gleam, despite Robb’s reassuring smile.

“Come on Bran, you can tell us.” Robb prompts

“It’s just….” Bran starts before falling silent again.

All of them end up staring over to where Sansa and Jon are still talking. Feeling their gaze, Jon looks pass Sansa and looks at them; puzzled by their stares. True to his showman personality and carefree spirit, he winks at them before making a teasing remark at Sansa. When Sansa’s hand lifts, as if to swat him playfully like she sometimes does, Bran reacts. Merida just manages to catch the wide eyed, and quick striking flash of anger in Bran’s eyes before his words finally register.

“She **_WHAT!_** ” “ _What!”_ both Theon and Robb hiss and snap

Bran had been loud enough that Jon and Sansa had heard him easily. Merida watches as Sansa’s eyes seem to widen in horror whilst Jon’s flare with panic. The smile he slaps on his face is panicked and so fake it’s cracking in the corners. Rickon has left her side to follow after Robb and Theon who have rushed at Jon. They crowd him almost shoving Sansa aside in their rush- but her flame haired sister is closer to Jon. Merida absently finds herself praising her sister’s strength when she easily pushes _both_ Theon and Robb back so she can check Jon over herself.

Whilst Jon is babbling a mixture of jokes and overly dramatic yelps to distract the hoard of siblings he’s found himself accosted by. Merida, sidles up to where Bran is still standing. She is startled when she realizes he’s trembling. At first she thinks he’s upset but she’s proven wrong when he meets her gaze.

Bran is trembling with anger.

When he realizes she’s beside him, Bran seems to let loose and his outburst is by no means quiet.

“Mother _hit_ Jon!!! She _SLAPPED_ his face! I saw it!!”

Merida knows rage, she knows anger- she’d spent an entire life time embracing the emotion. Of all her new siblings, Bran is the sweetest and softest of heart. The anger in his glare does not belong and she knows in truth the emotion is poison. Which is why she does not hesitate to pull him into her arms. He continues to tremble and feebly fights against her hold because of the poisonous emotion in his veins.

She sees the rest of their siblings move to interfere, but she glares fiercely at all of them. It’s Sansa that holds them back and Jon seems frozen as he watches sweet Bran tremble. Slowly, through her hushed whispers and gentle rocking Bran begins to calm. The poisonous anger seeps out and all that it leaves behind is a guilty child crying at the act of betrayal from his mother.

“Mother shouldn’t have hit him. It was my fault. Jon only climbs for me. She hurt Jon.”  

Then Bran is clinging to her, and his wet face is buried in her neck. Merida loses her mind to memories of her before life. She remembers her time at sea and the orphan children she’d discover in her adventures. Hungry children, starved of touch, love and comfort. Though she’d never married or birthed children of her own. Merida had mothered many children and she’d been a proud Aunt and godmother.

“Aye, ye’r mother should not ‘ave done that.” Merida softly whispers, unaware to how her accent had changed.

“Bran?” Jon calls

Merida loosens her hold and she keeps a careful eye on Jon’s expression. Bran lets go of her but he does not lift his head. He keeps his head down even as Jon squats to try and meet his gaze. Merida moves back to where the others are watching. She feels Rickon pull at her hands and she pulls him close. They all watch as Bran and Jon share a sacred moment.

It really was no secret that Bran was Jon’s favorite- a fact that occasionally soured Robb.

They can’t hear what Jon is saying to Bran, or whatever it is Bran whispers back. They don’t want to know, the moment is private, delicate like frost flakes on a leaf. None of them wish to be the ones who ruin it.

“Mother made Bran cry.” Rickon mumbles and he is angry- but his anger is childish and easy to curb by soft caresses through his curls.

“Your Mother has angered many people, brat. What are you going to do about it?” Theon sneers before directing his question to Robb.

They all look at Robb, but he doesn’t say anything. Only when they all see Bran smile once more and laugh at another of Jon’s ridiculous jokes; only when they see Jon playfully beginning a game of tag with Bran with laughter and joy visible on his face; only then does Robb reply.

“Jon will be sitting with us for the welcoming feast. If Mother has a problem I’ll gladly tell father why.” Robb coldly states and Merida wonders if she imagined the slight growl in his tone.

She peers at Robb and smirks at what she sees. The dark red waves of his hair appear messed by the wind, his blue eyes shine like ice gems. The wicked grin on his lips makes her think of a wolf’s teeth bared and glinting sharply. In this moment, there is no denying that the wolf blood in Robb Stark is strong.

Theon barks out a laugh and insults Robb as he’s prone to do. Yet there is satisfaction in his gaze as he does so. Robb shoves at him and then the two are lost to play fighting, with Rickon shoving at them. The boys then join Bran and Jon in their game of tag, and only Merida and Sansa remain on the side lines.

Merida stares at her sister. She stares and stares until the taller girl finally turns to meet her gaze. Sansa looks down at her and Merida admires the beauty of the young girl. Under her attention, Merida says nothing, only narrows her glare and stares. It’s Sansa who finally breaks the tension between them both.

“What! Why are looking at me like that!?” Sansa hissed angrily, red blotches appearing on her cheeks.

“You’re not going to stop him?” Merida questions with an arch of her brow and a light sneer.

Sansa stares at her with narrowed eyes and the glare of her Tully blue eyes are piercing. Merida does not flinch or blink under the intensity. The tension between them continues to mount until it’s suffocating. Then, like the Lady she is, Sansa tips her head and her nose turns upwards. There is a change in her Tully blue eyes, a dark shadowing change that Merida swears feels familiar.

“Why would I?” Sansa lowly sneers

It’s a rhetorical question and a dismissal in one. Just as swiftly, Sansa turns and leaves with a swish of her skirts and her head held high. Merida watches her leave and feels the beginnings of respect grow. Perhaps Jon was right, maybe she’d been too quick to judge her sister. Still, Merida knows there is something off about her older sister. She’d promised Jon she’d try harder to bond with Sansa, and she will. It will be slow, and Merida will be forced to address the many issues she’s been ignoring since she’d awoken in this new life.

Sansa- with her red flame colored hair, bright blue eyes and royal manners. Sansa is everything Merida had been once upon a lifetime. Sansa is a walking reminder of the Queen, Merida had once been when she died the first time.

Still she will try, because she is a Stark of Winterfell and the blood of wolves flows strongly in her veins.

\---

Merida is wearing a dress, her hair neatly braided and arranged. She looks like a lady, though soon no one would label her one. Not with how she is freely and shamelessly wrestling with both Rickon and Shaggy Dog. Rickon is squealing with a mixture of delighted laughs and war cries. Shaggy Dog is jumping at her and tugging on her sleeves. It does not take long for both Rickon and hers state of dress to be ruined.

_‘Good?’_ Rickon taps through code.

She grins and nods, giving him a high five and a sweet kiss to his cheek. The welcoming feast is soon to begin and both Septa Mordane and Lady Catelyn had already checked their state of dress. They are supposed to meet with the others by the doors so they may all walk in. They’d been paired off with the Royal children. Robb would be escorting the princess and Sansa would be escorted by Joffrey. Merida was to walk in with Tommen, but she wondered if she still would, once Lady Catelyn saw her appearance.

It was petty revenge but Merida loved all forms of vengeance.

Robb had left Theon strict instructions regarding Jon. She’d not gleamed all of it but she knew whatever it was would most likely enrage Lady Catelyn. Out of all the Stark children only Sansa and Bran would be the perfect little lord and lady.  As the heir to Winterfell, Robb had to maintain his image, but he was such a vengeful thing; Merida was sure he’d planned something sly and subtle. Merida often still found herself amazed and shocked at just how deviously ruthless her oldest brother could be. Of course Jon thought it funny whilst the warrior she’d once been only held admiration for his cunning.

Lady Catelyn had ordered all their dire wolves to be caged in the stables and chained. Obviously none of the Stark children had been happy once word had reached them. Even Sansa had looked angry, when she begged for Lady’s freedom, Lady Catelyn remained firm.  It was an argument none of them won, not even her new father when he attempted to appeal to Lady Catelyn on their behalf.

“Arya! Rickon! Come on, the feast is soon to start. You need to hide Shaggy now!” Bran hurriedly whispered.

They hurried to return Shaggy back to the stables with the others. Rickon was reluctant but after a reassuring kiss on his head as well as Shaggy, he left with little fuss. Merida cast one last look at the chained and caged dire wolves. It was a sorry sight and the hot anger in belly swelled to life again.

“It won’t be long.” She assured

Just before they were in sight of the others, Merida released the braids in her hair. She sighed at the relief her scalp felt and shook her hair out wildly. Rickon giggled and Bran grinned at the wildness of her hair. It was a strange mix of curls and waves, so wild she was more likely to be mistaken for a wildling child in a dress. Merida laughed at the familiarity of the hairstyle. It was not as wild as the mass of red curls she’d had in her first life. Her new hair was lighter and a dark brown, but it was hers and she wore it with pride.

The sound of her laughter drew everyone’s attention and she savored the expression’s on each person’s face. The wide eyes of the King, the dread in her father’s gaze. The incredulous stare of Prince Joffrey, Princess Myrcella’s gasp of shock and Prince Tommen’s gape. The Queen’s reddening face and Jaime Lannister’s spluttering words was even better. Merida however swiftly looked over her siblings. Sansa was gaping much like Prince Tommen, but Merida could spot the glint in her eyes. She thought maybe she’d just impressed her lady sister. Robb was trying to keep his laughter quiet but the savagely satisfied gleam in his eyes told her he was pleased.

The best reaction however was Lady Catelyn.  Merida watched as her face paled so white she looked ghostly. Then just as quickly color returned in an alarming shade of purple red. Lady Catelyn was furious with both embarrassment and rage. Merida had finally done it, pushed so far she’d caused her new mother to fall into a red blinding rage.

**“ARYA STARK! WHAT ON EARTH HAVE YOU DONE TO YOUR DRESS!”** Lady Catelyn near screeched.

Rickon whimpered and Bran instantly looked incredibly guilty. The two were not entirely acting as Lady Catelyn looked monstrous. But Merida had faced and roared in the face of dragons, trolls and mindless beasts. In this moment Lady Catelyn was nothing compared to such fearsome creatures.

“Catelyn!” her new father warned.

“DO **NOT** START WITH ME EDDARD!” Lady Catelyn snapped

Merida had angered her so much, her new mother had forgotten the Royal family’s presence.

“Mother please you must calm down!” Robb hastily intervened, his smile strained as he flashed a falsely polite smile to the Royal family.

If one would look closely at Robb’s face they would see the gleeful satisfaction in his eyes. They’d not expected Lady Catelyn to be so enraged so soon, but it only aided Robbs plans.

“She’s completely _ruined_ her dress and her hair!!” Lady Catelyn hissed.

Carefully, Merida took a step back, blocking her little brothers from sight. Her new father had managed to calm Lady Catelyn enough, before finally trusting she’d no longer yell. The time he took allowed King Robert to snap out of his shock and instead order Merida explain.

“You dare to greet the royal family in such a manner! Should I take this to mean insult Lord and Lady Stark!!?” The Queen hissed with cold fury.

“Shut up. You! Explain yourself girl.” King Robert ordered

Both Lady Catelyn and her new father appeared anxious. Merida however caught Sansa and Robbs encouraging gazes and felt her little brothers’ supportive hands on her back. She was not afraid of a fat king and she was not afraid of Lady Catelyn or the Queen. Still she needed to be careful.

Bowing her head just a bit to seem apologetic, and maybe a little shamed, Merida forced her face to blush.

“I-I…… earlier, I overheard prince Tommen’s wishes to capture one of the stray kittens in the courtyard. I’d attempted to capture it myself to gift it to him as a welcome to Winterfell. The nights can grow cold here in the North, your grace. I wished him to be as comfortable as possible.”

She’d spoken as respectable as she could and after she’d stopped, Bran and Rickon piped up in support of her words. All of it was lies, but they would not dare tell the truth about wrestling with Shaggy dog. Lady Catelyn did not believe them, it was clear on her face. When the Queen looked disgusted and ready to speak, the King swiftly shut her up once more and basically waved the issue away.

“You would ignore this insult-“

“The girl wished to give a gift to our son. Her efforts of her battle to do so should be worn with pride. Tell me girl, did you manage to capture the kitten?” King Robert demanded but the twinkle in his eye told all that he found the entire thing funny.

Merida relaxed a little more knowing the King was not angry. Giving him a daring grin with obvious jest in her tone, she answered.

“It was a hard fought battle, your grace. One I regret to announce I’d lost. Though mayhap you have the time, you may council me in how such hard fought wars may be won?”

The King laughed outrageously at her brazen and she saw her new father relax. Throughout it all neither Lady Catelyn nor the Queen relented in their glares. She caught sight of Robb’s subtle thumbs up, while Sansa’s shoulder’s drooped in bone felt relief. If anyone bothered to pay proper attention to their surrounding they would have noticed how the shadows seemed to dance with the black sand that lingered within its depths.

The King then declared his want to feast and they all lined up. Lady Catelyn attempted to snatch her by her sleeves, but Merida dodged her and found her place in line. She found herself beside Prince Tommen. He was blushing, so red he matched an overly ripe tomato.

“Did you really try to catch me a kitten?” he whispered as they were all being announced

Merida grinned and flicked her loose hair out of her face.

“Of course. Don’t worry next time I try, you can join me.”

She hadn’t thought it possible for the boy to turn a darker red than he already was. He was giggling quietly and when Bran began to poke her, and the three of them began a game, the little prince laughed. Rickon looked tortured in Lady Catelyn’s grips, and the queen was casting glares at Merida the entire time.

She forced herself to ignore the urge to snatch Rickon back to her side. She couldn’t risk pushing too far just yet. A good thing too, because once they’d finally been seated. All the Stark children had subtly watched Lady Catelyn’s expression once again. There in blatant sight- Despite Lady Catelyn’s orders for Jon to be banned from the welcome feast, sat Jon at Theon’s side. They were both seated at the table closest to them. The table meant for the higher born and those in high command.

At most, Merida was impressed Lady Catelyn managed to bite her tongue fast enough that she’d not let loose another loud shout of outrage. Rickon- the blessed little devil, let out a childish clap and eagerly pointed and waved at Jon and Theon. Bran beamed at Jon who winked back whilst Theon smirked beside him.

Eddard Stark only gave his wife a quick glance but nothing else. Instead he nodded and smiled bitter sweetly at where Jon was seated. He was glad but well aware of his wife’s fury at his side. Sansa watched everything with a pretty and dainty sweet smile. No one would see how her eyes gleamed and sparkled with smug satisfaction at seeing Jon beside Theon.

When she snuck a peek over to where Robb sat, the wide smile on his lips looked feral. If Merida were to see her own reflection, she would know the same smile sat on hers.  

King Robert then declared the Feast begin.

And so Phase two began.

\---

**[Eddard]**

Eddard Stark was not a fool. He was heralded the Quiet Wolf not the Blind Wolf. Though it was a feast for celebration, and there was no threat to be seen. He was well aware there was a silent war in play. A war between his wolf blooded children and fish blooded wife. Chasing kittens did not result in such tears in a dress. Most of all, his nephew’s presence at the feast- yes a silent war was indeed in play.

He tried to be subtle in his attempt to solve just who was leading this torment. More than that, he tried to puzzle out why his children were determined to anger and embarrass their mother. This was not the first time Ned’s watched his children wage a silent war of vengeance. However, never once had it been on a family member.

“Bloody hell Ned! This is a feast, must you look so fucking glum. Here. Drink.” Robert ordered

Ned obeyed but his eyes still watched his children and Lady Wife. Catelyn and the Queen seemed to be mirroring each other’s expression. Their eyes tracked the on goings before them, the drunken feasting, dancing and such. Ned was so busy trying to figure out his children’s motives he barely noticed Robert’s constant groping and molesting of the serving maids. It’s not till Robert- fed up with his best friend’s inattentiveness, slammed his goblet on the table, that Ned turned to him.

“SEVEN’S HELL NED! I don’t see you for nine years and you barely spare me a glance. What the hell is distracting your head tonight!?” Robert angrily snaps

“My children Robert!” Ned snaps with annoyance.

Robert seems to blink in surprise at Ned’s short temperance, but is too eager to hear more to feel insulted. Robert could barely recall the last time he’d ever seen Ned- Quiet and Honorable Ned- look so short and on edge. The only times Ned even appeared threatening was in battle or war with a bloodied sword in his hand. Robert found himself straightening with anticipation, blood lust for battle roaring in his veins.

“What? What is it? Is there war on the horizons? A battle here in the North? Damnit Ned, should I be calling for my hammer?” Robert eagerly pestered with a savage grin

Ned scowled and drank more wine from his cup. He’d been drinking much too fast and had yet to fill his belly. The wine was hitting him faster than usual and in his tipsy state, with his best friend at his side, his tongue loosened.

“A war indeed. Your hammer will be of no use in this war Robert. It would appear my children have declared a silent war on their mother.”

Robert blinked, once, twice and then a third.

“What!?”

Ned drained the last of his cup and slammed it on the table. In an odd turn of events, Robert found himself feeling as if he had swapped with Ned. For just a moment, Ned seemed to be the drunkard and Robert the sober party.

“My children are warring against their mother. No kitten could possibly rip such large tears in Arya’s dress. I also know Cat was firm in her orders that Jon not show a hair of his head for this feast”

“Jon? Your bastard son!?” Robert affirmed whilst seeking the boy out.

Perhaps it was because he’d missed his best friend. Maybe it was because Benjen was at the wall and not here. Or maybe Ned just wanted to bloody talk and vent about the stress and strained pressure happening in his marriage. Regardless the reason, Robert was all he had, and Ned found himself confessing to his old friend the heated arguments and angry whispered conversations between himself and Catelyn. He found himself confessing to the King his pride but exhaustion when it came to all his children, even his Greyjoy ward.

The longer Ned talked, the more sober Robert became. The fat king had not heard his friend ever speak in such length since he’d last gotten the man drunk in their foster days. Suddenly Robert had the startling realization that, similarly to him, Ned was trapped. The Quiet Wolf was miserable in his marriage and all his earlier show of smiles and loving looks were lies. Robert belched out a laugh and he laughed till he cried from pain.

Ned scowled as he watched Robert laugh himself to tears.

“And is it not harmless? They are children” Robert blubbered out in incredulous amusement.

Ned readily shakes his head and scoffs at Robert.

“They are wolves of the North Robert. Wilder then Brandon and Lyanna put together.”

Robert calms and now joins his friend in intently studying the Stark children. Wilder than Ned’s deceased siblings? Impossible, he thinks. Yet he sees’ how Robb Stark is laughing and suddenly the boy appears more like a laughing wolf than a boy. He watches Ned’s wild daughter dancing with her younger brothers and likens them more too wild pups. Then he thinks perhaps Ned is right. 

“Cat has angered them and this is their vengeance?” Ned glowers lowly, as if he is whispering a secret.

Suddenly the doors open and one of Ned’s men prepares for an announcement. The festivities quiet down, and Robert sees Ned jolt up with tension and dread on his face. Ned is not looking at the guard but at his children. It is then Robert finally sees what Ned has been watching all night long. There is eagerness and a dark gleeful glow to Robb Starks smile as he moves to stand.

“Lord Stark, the children of Winter town have all gathered as you have requested.”

“Ned! What is this? What have you planned?” Lady Catelyn demands with stiff formality and confusion.

Ned only shakes his head to show it was not him. Robert however is now drinking more wine and he cannot help the curiosity that is building in his belly. Why had he not come visit the North earlier, there is simply so much entertainment.

“Is this to be another gift?” Cersei inquires but there is mockery and disgust in her tone.

Robert instantly hates her voice and bellows for her to shut up and cease being such an annoyance. He cares little of how he is embarrassing her, she is destroying his entertainment.

“Hurry up then. Someone explain quickly. What has been planned?” Robert orders and he directs it to all of Ned’s children.

He is not surprised that Robb Stark is the one who speaks. He is dramatic when he rises and theatrical with his announcement. Robert laughs again and Ned is sinking into his seat with an anxious gut feeling.

“Much like my sister, I wished to provide the Princes’ and Princess a proper welcome to the North.” Robb walks until he is beside Ned’s bastard son.  

A lot of eyes are looking to where Catelyn and Cersei are seated. It is no secret to all the realms that both women are shamed by the bastard children their husbands had spawned. The heir to Winterfell is blatantly disrespecting his mother before their guests. The people of Winterfell watch with eager eyes and silent mouths. They all knew that Lady Catelyn was greatly rebelled against by all her children- save Sansa.

They look to where their Lord Stark is seated- all knew he was exhausted by his Southern wife’s constant complaints and hostility. However, at the end of the day the people of Winterfell were more fond of Jon Snow- Jon Snow who brought fun and smiles to their children’s faces; a helpful boy who though a trouble maker was always ready to protect and fight for his people. If it came to a choice between Lady Catelyn and Jon Snow, the people of Winterfell would choose the bastard.

“You see your majesties, what many don’t know is my brother Jon is well gifted with stories.”

There are gasps at hearing the Stark heir proudly and bluntly claim his bastard brother so familiarly before the Royal family. Lady Catelyn is once again a purple shade of red, and they all see Ned Stark down another goblet of wine.

King Robert is on the verge of shocked amazement. Robert slightly pities his friend for fathering such brazen children, yet he also wishes to laugh obnoxiously in Ned’s face. The Gods must be having a laugh- they have to be, why else would they give the Honorable and Quiet Wolf such wild children. Robert thinks to himself, if the North continues to be so entertaining he would rather remain longer. Why did no one tell him the North was filled with so much fun?

“Me? Gifted? You flatter me.” Jon laughs with a humbling shake of his head

“Hush brother, let me speak of your talent. Gods know why Mother always wishes you hide away your gifts. We fear sometimes you will be stolen because of your talent” Robb banters

“HAH! Stolen like a maiden. True words to be used. Snow does indeed appear so delicate.” Theon snickers

The men in the hall are laughing and the festive mood is slowly returning. Though it is cautious in its return because everyone can see the strained expressions on Lady Catelyn and Queen Cersei’s faces. Robb then turns to the Royal children and grins at them roguishly. Princess Myrcella grows pink whilst Prince Tommen leans forward eagerly. Prince Joffrey is scowling and he looks much like his mother.

“I’ve arranged for my brother to be our entertainment tonight, and invited the children of Winter town to join us. Will you permit such a gift to be shared?”

Before anyone- such as Cersei, Catelyn, Ned or Robert can indeed speak. Princess Myrcella has spoken in their place and caused her mother to grow purple in face as well.

“YES PLEASE!” she excitedly claps

Robb swiftly motions for the doors to open and the children of Winter town hurry through with excitement obvious on their face. They are crying out Jon’s name and rush at him for hugs and laughter. Jon is flamboyant when he is in the presence of children, he hastily settles the children and garners everyone’s attention. He soaks in the feel of everyone’s awaiting and eager eyes then begins to share one of his many stories.

As he does so, Lady Catelyn has dragged Robb away and Ned has hastily followed after them. No one really notices due to the magic of Jon’s skill with storytelling.

He finds them outside of the hall and the night is quiet whilst inside is loud. When Ned happens upon his eldest son and wife, he hears them argue. Catelyn is furious and she is furiously yelling at their son. Robb is scowling with disgust at his mother and his own rage is evident in his glare.

“-You’ve embarrassed both I and the Queen. YOU horrid stupid boy! What were you thinking I should-“

“You should what _mother_! What will you do? Will you punish me? Strike me I dare you to do so. Strike me like you did to Jon. I deserve it for my uncouth manners and rude display. Punish me like you would Jon!” Robb snarls

Catelyn eyes widen in shock and when she speaks she sounds incredulous.

“This! YOU did this all for that **_BASTARD_** boy!!”

“DON’T CALL HIM THAT! HE IS MY BROTHER!” Robb roars

_*SLAP*_

Robbs face is turned sideways and the red hand print will leave a bruise.  Ned does not move because he is in shock at having just witnessed Catelyn strike their child. Robb however is grinning somewhat madly.

“You will respect me. I am your mother.” Catelyn hisses

Robb laughs in her face and sneers.

“A mother would never strike her own child. Who will you hit next? Bran? Arya? Rickon?”

Catelyn’s hand lifts again and Ned knows it’s readying to strike. The anger finally explodes within him and his voice barks out harshly in the night. The wine in his system urges the anger to turn to rage. For a moment there is fear in Catelyn’s eyes at being caught, but it’s gone just as quickly. Robb however looks as if he is relaxing now that his father has appeared.

“Robb go to the kitchens and ice your cheek. Then you will return to the feast.”

It is not a suggestion and Robb lingers long enough to tell Ned of what he learned from Bran.

“Gladly father. It’s not like I am the first to suffer _mother’s_ aggression. If Jon can recover so quickly then so can I. At least this time Bran will not cry because of _her_ actions” Robb taunts

Ned snaps at Robb to leave once again, but his son’s taunt has successfully turned his anger to rage. Then it is only Ned and Catelyn. She doesn’t speak to justify herself or even dares to move. She is frozen under his raging glare. Ned had never thought her capable of such actions. He feels betrayal but the emotion barely registers under all the rage in his blood.

“You are done for the night. I will explain to the Queen and Robert that you felt faint and retired early to your rooms. You will not leave them until I send for you in the morn.” He is cold in his words and blank.

“You would have me banished to my rooms as if I were a child!? I am your Lady wife!!”

Catelyn shrinks back and the small courage she conjured abandoned her just as quickly. She had never seen Ned Stark looks so fearsome in all their years of marriage. He is glaring at her so coldly as if she is a stain on his boot. Ned steps forward and his words are sharp- dangerous with warning. She shivers from how coldly they are spat.

“Yes. I would have you banished to your room, like a child. Do not **disobey** me!”

“I’ve a right to discipline our children!” She spits and it is the last straw for Ned.

“ **You will never discipline _MY_ children again.” **Ned darkly growls and Catelyn shuts up entirely.

Ned looks at her with so much disdain that when he orders her out of his sight, she scurries away quickly with tears in her eyes. Ned’s rage still roars and he cannot return to the feast with it still in his blood. He goes to the court yard and picks up one of the discarded swords, he approaches the practice sack and slashes at it. He strikes it wildly- frantically without mercy. He is grunting with anger and bellowing out with rage, the sound echoes in the cold night. Anyone who would happen upon him would run away in fear at seeing him destroy the practice dummy with malice.

So caught up in his destruction, Ned does not hear the galloping of hooves.

“Is it dead yet?”

Ned turns with a ready stance, sword poised to strike whoever the intruder is. He slowly calms when he identifies the intruder as Benjen. Benjen however hops off his horse and feels his grin fade at seeing his older brother. Ned looks tense as if he is mid battle, his eyes are bright with fury and Benjen is immediately concerned. What has gotten his honorable brother so pissed, and who is the idiot who caused his wrath?

“Benjen!?” Ned pants in confusion, surprise and relief.

“I rode all day” Benjen manages to explain before he is pulled into his Brother’s tight embrace.

“Have you gotten bigger?” Ned mumbles

Benjen is now more than concerned for his brother. Ned is squeezing him so tightly, it’s uncomfortable and then he catches the smell of wine on Ned’s breath. Ned is drunk. What on earth has happened to his brother?

“Is everything alright brother?”

Ned shakes his head and slumps with exhaustion, he is calmer. With careful movement, Benjen leads Ned somewhere they may speak without growing cold. As they leave neither notice the short shadow that had witnessed the entire scene. Tyrion shakes his head with intrigue, wondering just what other entertainment the Stark family would provide.

\---

**[Merida]**

Jon is wowing the crowd with an entertaining re-enactment of another guardian story involving the Easter Bunny, Saint Nick and Sand man. The children as well as the younger royals are amazed. Some of the grownups have continued to drink and feast, or split into their own talks. However surprisingly the King is still listening to Jon’s tales.

As such no one really notices when Robb sneaks back into the hall. Merida makes her way to his side and she freezes at seeing the red imprint on his cheek. She ignores his indignant yelp and hauls him to the side, away from Jon’s sight. Robb glares at her but she ignores him and fusses over the mark on his cheek.

“She hit you!” Merida hisses

Robb pulls away and shakes his head.

“I baited her. This was all according to my plan.”

Merida stares at him like he’s an idiot. This dratted idiot brother of hers had planned for Lady Catelyn to strike him. How stupid is he!?

“Are you mad!? Are you so stupid that you’d-nnggghh aarrrgh!! You cannot let Jon see you till the redness fades!” She hisses

Robb still looks so ridiculously smug, Merida wants to shove him. He has no idea what Jon will actually do if he sees Robb’s face red with a hand print on his cheek. Jon would rage the cold of winter on Lady Catelyn and possibly damn the entire North into a frozen blizzard in his rage. She points a finger at his face and scowls at him.

“That is not something to be proud of Robb!!”

“It wasn’t fair! And I-“

“And you should simply have told FATHER! We were only supposed to drive her mad not bait her to strike you with violence.” Merida hissed

“And I did tell father, even better he witnessed it himself. Now he knows we’re not lying and she’d be dealt with. For years she’s treated Jon unfairly, always punishing him worse than us, and being unfair. I forced her hand tonight and Father will make sure she will never dare touch ANY of us ever again!!” Robb defended stubbornly.

Merida could see he did not regret a single of his actions tonight.

“What if this ruins their marriage!?” Merida points out in warning

She is only slightly surprised at seeing the dark and firm glint in his eyes.

“Then she will never be able to hurt Jon again.”

It dawns on Merida then that her oldest brother had a different goal in mind tonight. Robb had not been trying to simply piss off Lady Catelyn. Her brother had been trying to get her out of Winterfell and as far away from Jon as he could manage. Merida wasn’t sure if she was impressed or astonished at just how possessive Robb was over Jon. He’d always been a hard ass when it came to Jon. It took years before he could even stand sharing Jon with either Sansa, herself, Bran or Rickon. He still fought with Theon for a fraction of Jon’s time. Merida felt shock yet at the same time she wondered why it was so surprising.

Robb Stark was trying to get Lady Catelyn banished from the North.

Merida pondered the merits of telling Jon. In truth……. She didn’t feel any want to do such a thing. She thought over Lady Catelyn’s importance in Winterfell, would it really be a loss?

The answer was no.

It really wouldn’t.

“Enjoy yourself Arya. _Mother_ will not be a problem tonight!” Robb gleefully purrs before ruffling her hair and joining the rest of the merry men.

Merida can’t help the laugh that bubbles pass her lips.

The rest of the feast continues late into the morn and it is a happy occasion. No one is upset when Ned Stark explains Lady Catelyn’s absence. King Robert’s obnoxious laughter is loud and boisterous all night. Benjen Stark’s arrival is met with merry cheers and a lot of singing.

Before she finally retires for bed, Merida is firm in her decision. She will not be telling Jon about Robb’s goal.

\---

Breaking fast after the welcoming feast was incredibly tense. Lady Catelyn again did not make an appearance. No one but the Queen inquired after her presence. The Starks met the Queen’s dwarf brother and he was not subtle in his interest towards Jon. As such the Stark children were very distracting, interfering and chaperoning whenever the imp was near Jon. Sansa found herself permanently stuck by Prince Joffrey’s side, Merida felt sick every time she spotted the two. Yet out of all of them, only Sansa had earned the Queen’s good favour, which was no surprise.

Merida had noticed their Father’s weary expression, and she felt a little more gratitude to the King. King Robert was very good at distracting her father with old tales of their youth. Uncle Benjen’s presence also seemed to help her father. So she felt a little less concerned.

2 days later and Lady Catelyn was finally being seen around Winterfell again.

She was quieter, more withdrawn and often seen by the Queen’s side. No one saw her near any of her children or beside Lord Stark. Their dire wolves had been relieved from their chains and cages after the feast. However today, Shaggy dog had been chained in the stables under Prince Joffrey’s demands. Rickon had been beyond furious, he’d raged a tantrum that exhausted him to sleep in tears.

In retaliation, Merida had set up an elaborate plan to punish the stupid Prince.

Now she was hiding out in the Godswood, waiting for the sound of screams and yells to reach her ears. No doubt it would happen because she’d planned it so. As she waited she basked in the quiet of her surroundings. A wafting sensation of exhaustion overwhelmed her suddenly.

Without warning her eyes fluttered shut and she fell asleep.

\---

_She pads through the courtyard and dodges the many people who are busily working. She shakes her furred coat and begins a search for her siblings. There is a calling in her chest, telling her that they are needed, that they must gather. It is urging her to hurry and so she speeds up into a light run. She is still a pup, and it is easier for her to dodge and weave through the legs of the two-legged._

_She first catches the scent of her eldest brother. He watches his master with a wagging tongue and tail. She snuffs at him, whimpers at him and he turns to her with barred teeth. He barks at her and she snarls low in her throat. He doesn’t want to leave and wishes to watch his Master wrestle. Annoyed she bites at his ear and hurries to leave. He snarls and chases after her._

_He is not the fastest of their litter, but he is bigger than them currently. He tackles her easily and they fight. Both of their teeth are barred and they snarl at each other. She gives one more bark and finally he listens. Grudgingly Grey Wind leaves to find the rest of their siblings. His tails whacks her face and she growls at him, knowing it was done on purpose._

_She hurries to find her sister next, sniffing so she catches her scent. Following her nose, she arrives at a closed door. Lady’s scent is strongest and freshest here, and so she paws at the door and barks loudly. She begins to shove at the door until it finally falls open. Her sister wolf snarls at her, shoulder hunched ready to attack._

_‘Come, you must come’ she whines and snuffs._

_Lady snaps her jaw  in warning, she does not want her to step foot into her Mistress’s room. She moves closer to the room and manages to see why. Lady’s flame haired mistress is huddled in the corner. She is shaking and talking to herself in the corner. There is black sand swirling and sprouting around her and the room is dark with shadows despite the sun in the sky. She does not see anymore because Lady snaps her jaws threateningly at her neck._

_She whimpers and snarls in defense, she is no longer in the room. Lady paws at her mistress’s door until she manages to close it. Lady snarls and it is a warning._

_‘Stay away from my Mistress!’_

_She shakes her head and snuffs out air in acceptance and they race to get their brother. When they get to the stables Grey-Wind and Winter are waiting. All four of them snarl at the sight of their chained sibling. He is pulling at his chains and injuring himself in doing so. The two legs had his muzzle covered and her brother is whimpering and growling angrily._

_‘Free him!’ Grey-Wind barks angrily and they all try but don’t manage much with their paws._

_They don’t notice Winter leave until, he returns with the two-leg who is always with their Master’s and Mistresses. She thinks he is named Theon. Winter is dragging him by his clothes and they all whimper, snarl and whine at him._

_“Bloody Beasts.” Theon sneers looking as if he is going to leave._

_Grey-Wind blocks the exit and snarls._

_Shaggy shakes and whines and then Theon see’s the blood around the black pup’s neck. Sympathy fills his eyes, and then he is searching for the keys. All of the wolves watch him patiently as he frees their brother. The minute Shaggy is freed from the chains, he paws the muzzle on his snout. They all bark loudly with glee, whilst Winter licks at Theon’s face with thanks._

_“Off me you mangy mutt.” Theon snaps but he is smiling._

_He hides the keys and chains. Warns them not to tell anyone and leaves. She urges them to follow as the feeling in her chest grows greater. However, Lady slows and begins to dig at the pin in the ground._

_‘What are you doing?’ Shaggy dog snarls_

_‘The two legs will wonder how you got free. Dig so they don’t suspect.’ She growls_

_All of them dig various holes into the ground until it’s filled with various dips. She barks happily and once again urges them to follow her and hurry. Their four legs allow them to race quickly through the yard and find the last of their siblings._

_It had taken a while but his Master had finally named him._

_Summer is sitting and staring up at his Master, whose small form looks tiny up in the air. Summer doesn’t greet them or look, he keeps a watchful eye on his Master. She barks at the others, listening to the feeling in her chest that warns her._

_‘Chase the two legs away!’ She barks at Grey-Wind and Shaggy._

_Gleefully the two do so, scaring away the surrounding two-legs. Something bad is going to happen. She feels it- knows it. She hears Winter bark at Lady and then the two are dragging things, soft things into a pile at the base of the wall._

_Summer let out a whimper and whine, but he doesn’t look away from his climbing Master. She whimpers in comfort and rubs against his neck._

_‘He will be fine’ she whines_

_Summer snuffs in reply but continues to look up. The pile Winter and Lady are building, gets bigger and bigger. They have started to drag blocks of hay and tore at it till the golden straws are free like a bed._

_She looks up and is just in time to watch Summer’s Master fall. She startles and yelps whilst the rest of her siblings all hurry to the little Master. Summer however has already thrown his head back and is mournfully howling. Altogether they lift their heads and howl with mourning for the little Master who fell._

_Summer licks at his Master’s face but he doesn’t open his eyes. He is still among the pile of hay and soft things Winter and Lady had gathered. Not long after there are screams._

_Willow-Wisp then hears a whisper in her mind._

_\---_

_‘ **The boy will walk, you have changed his fate’**_ it says

\---

Merida wakes with a gasp and she heaves for air.  It was a dream, only a dream. It has to be a dream. However then she hears it. Screaming frantic yells and worst of all the howling. She jumps to her feet and runs to the source. Her heart drops and she is unaware of how she screams her little brother’s name.

Bran is in Robb’s arms unconscious and looking dead. Robb is roaring for someone to get the Maester. He scoops Bran in his arms and the gathered dire wolves continue to howl and snarl at people so the way may be clear. Robb runs as carefully as he can to get Bran to a Maester. Merida finds herself feeling faint and she collapses due to the shock. Willow-Wisp licks at her face and nudges at her with her head.

Merida looks into the dire wolves eyes and she knows her dream was not a dream.

The image of Bran falling from the tower is still vivid in her mind. It repeats itself over and over until every detail of it is forever carved into her memories. Then Merida knows, she knows with certainty that they have enemies in their home.

The dire wolves have gathered round her as everyone else had followed after Robb. She hugs Summer tightly and buries her fingers in his fur tightly. If not for the dire wolves Bran might have died. The voice in her dreams haunts her and it is the wolves who have changed her brother’s fate. They are magic, she can feel it now.

“You saved him.” She whispers, and her face is wet and vengeance blooms in her chest.

Her head tips and she peers at the top of the tower. Then she is running, she sprints to the top of the abandoned tower and finds nothing in the room. Merida knows, she knows the truth.

Her brother was pushed.

Behind her the dire wolves had followed, they enter the room and sniff every inch of it.

“ **FIND THEM** ” She orders with a roar

And they scatter, leaving Willow-Wisp behind. Only Winter splits from the pack. Merida is not worried about the white wolf because she is sure he is going to find his own master.

\---

**[Tyrion]**

The Stark family all crowd and gather around Bran’s still form. Lady Catelyn is wailing over his body as if he is dead- but he’s not. Not yet, at least according to the Maester. Tyrion had been seeking a potion for his headache when the entire scene occurred. Robb Stark looked mighty tragic with his limp brother in his arms and his frantic roaring for a Maester.

The littlest Stark child, Rickon- his mind remembers, is crying and clutching at his father's leg. Ned Stark has not blinked since he’d seen his son’s body.  Tyrion hides in the corner, watching the sad sight. He is only slightly surprised by the Kings huffing arrival and how he readily goes to Lord Stark’s side.

The room is slowly growing cramped and Tyrion is contemplating his leave. He however is stopped from leaving once more as another barges into the room. The Greyjoy storms to where Robb Stark stands and there is something fearful in his gaze.

“Did you find him?” Robb Stark croaks and curiously he too carries a note of fear in his voice.

Tyrion huddles tighter into the corner to remain unseen. He is too curious and his small form allows him to be invisible among the chaos.

“I’ve searched every each of the godswood, asked every child. He’s not been found.” The Greyjoy hisses with panic

Tyrion logically deduces that they must be speaking about Ned Stark’s bastard. It’s strange, he thinks. He wonders why the bastard son of Eddard Stark holds such sway with all of the people in Winterfell.

“Where are my sisters?” Robb demands next

The Greyjoy does not need to answer because in a timely fashion, the door opens once again. Sansa Stark hurries into the room and grows sickly white at seeing her little brother. She rushes to his side but she is shaking as she reaches to touch the boy. Tyrion watches intently the other two who follow after her with a pack of wolves following round their legs.

The room is officially over crowded but Tyrion can still see all.

As such he witness Jon Snows face clear as day when he enters. Lady Catelyn’s wailing has tapered off and she falls silent at the bastard boys presence. She glares at him with pure hatred, An expression Tyrion has been given by his sister since birth. He knows then and there that Lady Catelyn is praying death befalls on the bastard boy and not the child in bed.

“YOU! YOU DID THIS TO HIM!” She hisses

Ned Stark stops Lady Catelyn from attacking the bastard boy, by caging her in his arms. She is fighting him, angrily but the Lord does not loosen his grip. It is quiet other than Lady Catelyn’s angry sounds, as they all watch Jon approach Bran’s bedside. Tyrion notices how neither the Greyjoy nor Robb Stark have moved an inch since Jon’s arrival. He noticed the increased trembling of Sansa Starks form. Most of all he notices the silent prowling of the youngest Stark girl and how she has blocked the exit, keeping anyone in the room from leaving. The wolves at her side have barred the exit- minus one pup that is whimpering at the boys’ bed.

Jon Snow kneels beside Bran’s bedside- ignoring the demands of Lady Catelyn that orders he get away from her son.

“Bran? Hey Buddy? It’s time to wake kid.” He whispers softly- so softly Tyrion had to strain his hearing.

Tyrion feels his heart ache in sympathy and slight envy. It is obvious the Stark children love each other fiercely, and he aches for the bastard boy who is hoping the boy would obey. When Bran does not move, he sees tears fall from the bastard’s eyes.

“Come on, no more playing, Bran. Wake up.” the boy pleads

“Why isn’t he waking up? Jon? Why isn’t he waking up!?” Sansa frantically questions with a trembling voice and wet eyes.

“Your brother fell from a great height. He breathes still but I cannot promise he is entirely healthy.” The Maester regretfully informs.

“What do you mean?” King Robert snaps on Ned’s behalf.

“There is a chance, Bran might never awaken.”

There is a solemn silence after the announcement but it is Lady Catelyn who breaks it. She spits her words at the bastard boy with malice.

“You did this. It was you who encouraged him to climb. You killed my son!”

They all jump at the sudden roar of rage that comes from the small Stark daughter. Arya Stark looks wild with rage as she glares at her mother, the dire wolf at her side snarling in sync.

“LIES! Jon is not to blame!”

“Bran would not have fallen if he was never encouraged to climb!” Catelyn snaps

“HE DIDN’T FALL!” Arya Stark roared once more and everything was still.

“What are you saying!?”Ned Stark demands and everyone is staring at the small girl

“Bran didn’t fall. He would never fall.”

No one dares to breathe due to what she is implying, but her next words are directed to the bastard boy. She meets his gaze without flinching and speaks.

“Bran was pushed.”

What happens next is the strangest and most unusual thing. Through the open window comes a gust of freezing wind that steals the warmth of the room and kills the fire burning. It chills the air inside so suddenly Tyrion trembles with goose flesh on his arms and can see his breath visibly. Everything is cold, and he swears he saw frost begin to form on a goblet by the window. In addition to the cold sweep, the shadows grow great and it is like the sun has suddenly disappeared. Night should still be a while a way but it appears to have come early and the shadows seem to dance wildly on the walls. Tyrion is now shaking from both the cold wind and the small growing fear in his belly at the strangeness.

Yet no one else seems to notice. No one else seems to see the growing frost on the window edges, or the black sand looking wisps in the corners. No one but him. Most curious of all is how Sansa Stark is no longer trembling with fear and worry, she looks dark and ominous with the shadows at her back. Jon Snow is glaring and his grey eyes almost seem to glint with purple in the dim lighting. The dire wolves are barring their teeth and have gone to the side of their owners.

Tyrion suddenly feels as if he is literally in a den of feral and wildly savage wolves.

He slips out as quietly as he can and flees the scene. When he is far enough, he wipes at the cold sweat on his forehead and marvels at the shaking of his hands. He looks outside and almost falls over with confused shock. Outside, the air is cool and nothing like the frosty chill of that room. Most of all the sun seems to be shining brightly in the sky and none of the shadows are dancing like it had.

Tyrion trembles and pushes the entire scene to the back of his mind. He seeks out wine and chugs until the moment is forgotten and his nerves are calm. In his drunken stupor, he finds himself wary of everything around him, he avoids dark areas and stays in the castle. Never venturing outside. When his brother Jaime finds him he says something that Tyrion can barely understand. Tyrion laughs before stumbling into his brother and falling drunkenly at his feet.

“Jaime! Brother!” he bellows

He flops his hand and then motions for Jaime to lean forward so he may whisper.

“The North Brother *hiccup* be wary of the North.”

“And why the devil’s should I?” Jaime humors him

Tyrion laughs outrageously until he feels his stomach cramp with pain.

“Because brother, the wolves will be hunting soon.”


	13. Don't Wake The Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said last chapter this would be dark. But personally after finishing it, I don't think it's as dark as I probably made it sound. Again, I don't plan chapters, I just write whatever my brain pukes. And somehow you all like it, soo.... yep.
> 
> A couple a stuff to address for this chapter: 
> 
> Drogo: I actually like Drogo! Though majority of it is because Jason Momoa plays him, but he's not that terrible a character. He ended up less savage then I intended. I think he might seem ooc but I just couldn't write him as well. SO DON'T HATE ME PLEASE. My Drogo actually respects (in a way) and loves his wife, and sees her as more than a piece of meat to fuck in the end. 
> 
> Jorah: I hate him in the show, and in the books. Guy is an A-class creep. Also He's not able to connect with Hiccup which is why he seems closer to Viserys as Viserys is more open to him. 
> 
> Viserys: He actually doesn't monitor his sister as closely as in the show. This is because he's confident that Hiccup is meek, weak and pathetic. In his own messed up way, he loves his sister and shows it in weird ways. 
> 
> As for why Hiccup is suffering through alot of sexual stuff: He's a girl now, and it's a medieval era. Rape/Abuse etc were the biggest issues women faced back then. Unlike Punzie and Merida, he's got a shitter situation to live through. He doesn't have brothers or people who love him. He's alone and only got his dragons, which have yet to hatch. He's coping but just barely. 
> 
> Those are all the warnings for this chapter. I seriously am so touched that so many of you love this story. I literally didn't expect it to get so much positive responses. I love you all so much for taking a chance and enjoying this brain fart of mine !! I watched the HTTYD3 trailer and got hit with so many more ideas. I can't wait for you all to read the future chapters.  
> To the reviewer who pointed out the Jack Frost and Pied piper parallels. OMFG you blew my mind, because I honestly hadn't noticed that.  
> Sansa, Hiccup, Jack and one other character are going to be the darkest characters in this story. 
> 
> Anyway I'll stop blabbing, but thank you, THANK YOU ALL!! xxxx

**[Hiccup]**

They are riding again. He doesn’t know where they are heading, where their end destination is, but onwards they continue. Hiccup inhales and sags at the feeling of fresh air filling his lungs. If he closes his eyes and let’s his mind wander, he could almost fool himself into believing he is flying.

He can’t though- not when the clip clopping of his traveling company is so loud.

“You need to drink child.”

Hiccup snaps his eyes open and turns to whoever spoke. He moves his horse so they are not side by side but facing each other. Jorah Mormont gifts him an apologetic look, but Hiccup only tilts his head. He doesn’t trust the man. He doesn’t trust any man in this new world. He **_won’t_** trust any man until his family hatches.

Jorah must sense Hiccup’s hostility as his lips purse tightly- uncomfortable. There is a beat of silent tension between them and Hiccup doesn’t bother to break it. Not like he would have in his before life, where he never could stop himself from rambling.

“And eat.”

Jorah offers him dried horse meat. It looks like bark, it’s bitter and hard to chew. Instead of accepting the offer, Hiccup reaches into the pouch attached to his saddle, and takes out his own portion. Again he watches the man falter- but Hiccup doesn’t care. This man, he knows of the Dothraki’s ways, their culture. He is aware of what his mad brother does in his fits of rage and rants.

This man is a coward and Hiccup will not offer him pleasantries. He would never be kind to any bystander who chooses to ignore the suffering of another.

“The Dothraki have two things in abundance, grass and horses.” Jorah explains, attempting to start a conversation between them.

Hiccup does not know of how slack without emotion his face is. He is unable to see how unnerving his stare is to those who cannot read his thoughts.

Jorah himself feels uncomfortable under such looks. The new Khalessi is a common topic among the Dothraki, she is strange they all say. The servant girls fear her, they whisper of how she never strays too far from her dragon eggs. The whispers of her obsession is what really concerns him.

Hiccup chews at the dried meat, staring off towards the shadowy distance. He is anticipating their next stop, hopeful that they will stop long enough for him to collect more materials. Already, Hiccup has managed to create his own weaponry. Small things that he easily hides on his person- a hard thing to achieve considering the designs of his clothing.

Swivelling his hips slightly on the saddle, allows him to feel the pressure of his homemade blade. He had to use a stiff but flexible type of grass that worked as both a handle and a sleeve. It wrapped around his waist and was thick and heavy, but he dressed himself so no one would know. It would work as both a bladed whip, maybe a torture device if need be. The most important thing was that it was concealable.

He is supposed to wear sandals like the other women do. It would be too strange if he wore boots, instead Hiccup fashioned himself a different type of sandal. He’d used leather, and it covered his ankles like a boot would, however he’d created an opening so his feet were visible. He had been given stares but no one said anything to him about it. The design allowed him to conceal two flat daggers, much like the blade the men would use to shave. It rubbed against his ankle if they rode to long, but Hiccup welcomed the uncomfortable feeling.

It was a reminder.

A reminder that he is not useless Hiccup reborn.

He is a chief and now a Khaleesi.

His necklace contained poisonous powders, the decorative clasps were hollowed out so he could stuff other herbs and seeds into them. Hiccup would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a small sense of confidence. He understood now why Astrid always wore a smirk when she’d blatantly carry her axe and shield around the village. He wondered if all women feel this powerful when they are armed. He thinks the feeling is addictive and his respect for women grows greater.

As if to mock him, his husband rides pass.

Hiccup tries not to shiver.

Khal Drogo is already staring at him. The minute Hiccup is in his sights, the man would stare intently at his person. Hiccup would only shiver and try his best to silence the panic in his mind that says ‘he knows’. Religiously, he’d been drugging the Khal each night the man would enter their shared tent. It wasn’t easy to achieve, but Hiccup has not failed yet. He’d tried many methods to dose the man with the sleeping drug.

The first time, he’d slathered his lips with the drug. Careful not to taste it himself. It hadn’t been strong enough to put the man under entirely, but it did make him drowsy. It had been too slow acting but that night, his husband did not enter him. Each night since then, Hiccup has tried many ways.

It’s not surprising the man has gotten suspicious.

Sex is part of the Dothraki culture. It is a tradition of old and Hiccup is familiar enough with traditions. All Viking clans had their own traditions, and so he does not hate his husband. He cannot hate a man who is simply doing what he has been raised to believe and think. Instead, Hiccup hates the tradition. It is barbaric. It’s rape- violating and humiliating and Hiccup at times wishes Toothless was by his side. He wishes his dragon bud would hatch so they can burn the act out of existence.

Hiccup quickly abandons the thought, careful because he knows there would be no turning back. The angry fire in his belly fights to overwhelm him, but Hiccup stifles the rage. It was only a tradition, and Hiccup has been faced against such a tyrannical matter before. He could do it again. After all, stopping the tradition of rape and slavery within the Dothraki couldn’t possibly be any harder than convincing all of Berk that dragons could be friendly.

“It’ll get easier.”

Hiccup startles at the comment.

He’d forgotten Jorah Mormont had been attempting to converse with him. The man is staring at him with pity in his eyes. As if hearing his words would assure Hiccup of all his fears. It’s the pity that causes Hiccup to speak.

“Of course. I’m so glad you understand.” Hiccup is only vaguely aware of the spite in his tone.

“I did not know you had a partner to take you every night and morning. Tell me- and do forgive me if I am being so brazen- does it hurt? Do you bleed and ache with bruises each time as I do? Surely you must know a cure, as each day we ride, you seem so at ease.”

Jorah pulls his horse back, aware that he’d been wrong to offer reassurance. Hiccup is scathing with his words and his eyes glare sharply like daggers at the banished northerner. The audacity of the Northerner to even suggest each time will be ‘easier’ sparked his anger with vengeance.

“I do hope tonight when you are held down and taken over and over again- stretched and stuffed till you feel as if you will be ripped in two. I truly do hope you remember that everything gets ‘easier’” Hiccup hisses

He doesn’t linger to see the expression on the northerner’s face. Instead he urges his horse forward, far away from both his husband’s watching eyes and the Northerner who dared to pity him.

\---

By the time Hiccup has come to a stop, their camp has already been set up. He feels his brother’s impatient glare on his back, but ignores it. Viserys is not happy, it’s obvious on his face. He makes sure to avoid his brother, careful because he knows he is not in the right mind.

“Let us help you Khalessi!” One of the three servers protest.

Hiccup waves them off, and gets off the horse on his own. It was a mistake as he trembles and stumbles at being on solid ground once more. The three rush to him, and support him, he grudgingly accepts their assistance. Only until they reach his tent then he’s swift in dismissing them. He ignores their nervous looks among each other, regardless they obey him.

Hiccup immediately moves to where his family are placed. He quickly reaches for Toothless and cradles his egg tight to his chest. The hard shell against his skin is warm and Hiccup finally feels at ease. He caresses the other two eggs and greets them with a kiss to their warm shells. No one enters the tent, and Hiccup uses that time to continue his designing. Muttering ideas to the three eggs and conversing with them as if they are able to reply back.

So caught up in his creative plans, he almost forgot to prepare the drug for the night. There is an odd but loud sparkling pop from the fire and the flames grow brighter. Instantly, Hiccup is alert. He is quick to mix the herbs and prep the sleeping drug. Again he hears the cackling embers of the fire that warms his eggs and he sighs.

“I know, I know bud. I’m doing it now aren’t I!?” He grumbles with a roll of his eyes.

The loud spit and hiss of fire wood burning responds and Hiccup glares at the three eggs.

“I’m so glad you all think this is so funny.”

Hiccup pauses and tries to figure out another way to drug his husband for the night. At the same time he slathers the drug over his lips, a failsafe just in case the Khal is clued in to his other methods. The fire hisses again followed by an even louder crackling sound. Hiccup raises his brows in surprised contemplation.

“You sure that would work?”

The fire sparks again and Hiccup sighs.

“Fine, we’ll try it only because I’ve not done that one before.”

Having said that, Hiccup leaves the left over drugs next to the flames which warm his eggs. He then reaches for his wineskin and pours some of it onto a cloth. He scoops a thin layer of the drug onto the cloth as well and smears the mix onto his husband’s pillow.  As if summoned the tent flap opens and in steps Hiccups husband.

He’s quick to turn to the large man and gives an awkward grimace of a greeting. Khal Drogo does not move any further into the tent and tension builds between them rapidly.

“Hi”

**[Khal Drogo]**

He stares down at his wife. She is watching him carefully as if she is ready to battle. It amuses him, because she is so small and light. He does not worry at all. Yet, she has done something to him….. Or is doing something.

Drogo begins to circle her, warily eyeing her stance and person. He does not want to risk touching her. As he does so, she talks and he only understands a few of the words she speaks. Bit by bit he moves closer, tonight is perhaps the slowest he’s been in approaching her.

Each night before he sleeps, Drogo readies himself for battle.

The rest of his kin do not understand. The men would mock him and declare him weak and scared. They know nothing of how dangerous his wife truly is.

Drogo has seen her- watched her intently since the first night he had woken in confusion. He has seen how his little wife moves. She moves as if she is waiting for an attack. At first, he had thought she fears her brother- the annoying fuck who pesters him constantly for their army. He’d been ready to kill the man, kill him so his little wife would stop being so tense. Then he saw that it was not just him she eyed with caution.

Following that realisation was the missing memories of going to sleep.

Drogo knows he has not fucked his wife in many days. He can tell as men simply can. He’d not been suspicious of his wife until even mornings became hard to recall. Though he did not lose memory, Drogo was much too disoriented and his wife was always gone before he woke.

Then came the dreams, and he began to suspect his little wife to be guilty.

She is speaking to him but Drogo simply grunts, deciding he can touch her.

He grips her arm and pulls her close, hears her pained gasp. His grip is too tight but he pays it little attention. She is his wife, she belongs to him. He needs an heir and an heir she will give him.

_“Ow- Okay… erm could you may be let go?”_

“ _No.”_

_“AH hah! You speak common tongue! Wait- is that the only thing you can say!?”_

_“No.”_

_“No seriously…..”_

_“No.”_

_“I’m going to take that as a yes.”_

_“No.”_

_“Great.”_

_“No.”_

_“Yep. It is so not great.”_

_“No.”_

Drogo watches as his wife’s expression shifts, her eyes roll and her lips tug downwards. He marvels at how different she is from any other women he’s fucked or seen. He enjoys seeing her eyes change, how differently her face moves when they are in this tent. Outside, among the rest of their travelling company she is blank. He has watched her face stay still, never changing- not even when speaking with her own brother. She speaks more to him than anyone else in the clan.

He likes that she only gives to him her voice and different faces.

Despite the fact he can’t fully understand what she speaks to him.

He feels the burn in his loins, he wishes to fill her. Most nights he had wasted no time in freeing her of her clothes. He took her as he took every other woman he’d buried his cock in. Though tonight, he is careful. He slips the cloth off her shoulder slowly, watching her as if she would soon attack.

She stares at him with those strange purple eyes.

Drogo marvels at their beauty- he bought her for her eyes. He remembered how glassy and distantly they watched the world. He had wanted to make them change. He had wanted to see them fill with fear or something other. He wanted to ruin her. However, tonight- in fact since he’d wed her, he’d seen how they changed. They glare at the world with their purple glow, as if wishing the world would burn. Suddenly he wants to see more than devastation in those purple eyes.

He sees her throat swallow, and places his hand there. He wonders why she does not fight him- questions when she stopped telling him no. There is no fear in her eyes- in fact he’s never seen her fear him.

She stands naked before him and doesn’t cover herself like before. She does not shy away, just stands waiting. He grips her mounds and grins at the gasp she makes and thinks tonight he will win.

She leans forward and he thinks to capture her lips. Then he remembers that he’d done so twice before and he woke with no memory the next morn.

_“No.”_ He growls and holds her tightly, she whimpers at the pain it brings.

He is moving to mount her then and there. Quickly pulling her legs to apart and forcing her to bend. Now she begins to panic, he can tell by how her arms flail and her words spill. It is similar to the nights before. They are struggling against each other moving closer to where her eggs are placed.

He pulls at her white hair and holds her still

Then he hears the spitting of the fire where the eggs lay. He suddenly feels as if the tent is much too hot. He hears a clatter and then he is forced to let go and shut his eyes. A large waft of smoke assaults his face and he coughs and splutters with surprise and pain. He feels dizzy and his lungs burn but most of all the darkness begins to take over.

He hears his wife speaking again but does not know what she says.

_“ No no no no Don’t pass out-!”_

He falls back to the ground and groans at how the room spins. He thinks his wife is pulling at his arm but he knows he is too heavy to move. He can make out her purple eyes and white hair, and realises she is beautiful. She stands over him and all he can think is that she shines bright.

“Beautiful. Goddess.” He slurs in his language

_“I have no idea what you just said.”_

He caresses her face and is pleased she does not pull away.

“My wife.”

_“Yes. Okay. If you could get to the bed-“_

Drogo laughs until he finally caves to the darkness.

It is not dark for long and he is ready. He knows that this is a dream, it is not uncommon for him to dream of battle. So he is ready to defend against the heavy axe that swings to separate him in two. His own weapon glints against the heavy axe and both he and his opponent grunt to outdo the other.

Tonight has simply confirmed his suspicions about his wife.

She is drugging him.

The warrior he faces lets out a yell and kicks him. He stumbles back and they glare at each other.

Each night his wife has drugged him, Drogo has been having dreams. Dreams of battle against the same warrior, and each night he wakes before the battle may finish. They have never talked before but tonight, Drogo wishes to speak.

“Who are you!?” He growls

The warrior sneers at him and readies her shield and axe once more. She is small like his wife but stronger than a woman should be. She glares at him with hatred and Drogo only feels his bloodlust rise.

“Does it matter?”

Then she does something strange, she looks to the sky and bangs at her shield before whistling.

Drogo is wary, anxious at what she is planning. Despite being a woman, Drogo has never faced anyone who has challenged him so greatly. He is somewhat glad he faces her in this dream only and not in the real world.

Then he sees it and a he gapes at the large creature that stands at her back. Scales a blue shade with spikes, horns and eyes that glare. It is a dragon and he fears its presence. The dragon roars and the warrior grins maliciously at him.

“You scared now _Khal Drogo_!?” she mocks

He angrily grips his weapon and roars his reply with a grin.

“I am NO COWARD!”

They charge at each other and their weapons clash. Drogo does not know who this Warrior woman is- but she has a dragon by her side. A creature only his wife’s family can tame. He thinks perhaps this is a test by the gods for him to prove his worth. He fights the woman with everything he has and his mind compares his wife’s colouring to the warrior woman.

The warrior has hair that seems more pale yellow than white. Her eyes are ice blue rather than purple, but he will not ignore the possibility she is an ancestor.

So he will fight to win, he fights with excitement curious to see what else his little wife will make him face.

**[Hiccup]**

For a few moments he just sits there, head in his hands. Peeking through his fingers he prods at his husband’s fallen form- nope still unconscious. The Khal is most definitely in a dead sleep and will not be waking till late morn. Hiccup rises and glares to where his eggs sit.

“Really!! You couldn’t at least wait until I got him to the bed!”

The fire sparks and the flames dance, the smoke from the flame slowly fading out in the tent. They are just eggs, and Hiccup knows they can do nothing. Yet he also knows that it was no coincidence that the drug mix he’d left at the edge had fallen into the flames. It couldn’t be because he’d not even brushed against the thing.

“Of course you’d think it funny- None of you will have to lift him!!” He grumbles

Despite his annoyance, he still caresses each shell in a show of thanks. Tonight had been too close, and Hiccup knows the Khal is probably aware now that he’s been drugging him.

It makes him nervous for when the man wakes, but he elects to think about it in the morning.

“Okay, Hiccup, you’ve got this. You lugged Fishlegs home that one time he’d drank too much ale. You can lift your own husband. Let’s go.”

Gripping the man by his underarms, Hiccup began to pull, grunting in effort. It took a long time before he’d finally managed to move the man to the bed. During it all the fire seemed to laugh and mock him but he’d ignored it. As such, Hiccup collapsed onto the bed after his success. From how red his face was and the heaving of his naked chest, one would think he’d actually had sex tonight.

A spark from the fire caused Hiccup to glare at the eggs.

“I do not!”

Another hiss and cackle in response.

“Don’t make me turn you into scrambled eggs.” Hiccup weakly threatened

Only then did the fire grow quiet and all seemed calm. Hiccup turned to his side and stared at the man beside him. He’d not really stared at the man and it was easier to study him in his sleep. Khal Drogo was a fierce and burly man- tall, muscle filled and broad. A man in every way, and he knew it. Yet in this moment, Hiccup thought he seemed kinder.

Hiccup did not know why he did not fear the man.

He should.

This man has taken him- used him and bought him like one does a slave.

But he does not abuse him, he does not chain him to his side.

Khal Drogo reminds Hiccup of a wild dragon who knows no better.

“I must be out of my mind.” He mumbles with a laugh before turning over to sleep.

**[Viserys]**

It is all taking too long.

He wishes for his crown NOW, not later. His patience wears thin and his temper grows greater.

“How much longer must I wait, before we set leave towards Kings Landing? When will my army be ready?” He scowls angrily

“A war cannot be won within a day, it takes time to rally enough strength and force to conquer a kingdom. Robert Baratheon is said to be nothing but a fat king. I assure you, you will face no great struggles in acquiring your crown once more.” Jorah reassured

Viserys sneered at the northerner’s reassurance. Disgusted that he would dare think he had enough importance to even attempt to reassure him. He who is of royal blood, the rightful king of Westeros. Still, he must pretend he is flattered and fake trust of the banished northern man. So he says nothing of his true thoughts. Instead Viserys thinks of his plans to come, and ponders on his next moves.

“Why has the Khal not made moves to hurry up and make haste towards Kings landing!? If taking back my crown should be so easy, why are we not moving faster!?”

Jorah hesitated to further speak but Viserys interrupted him before he could speak further.

“Each day we waste, is another day that usurper relishes in **_MY_** riches! What more must I promise these savages? Is selling my sister not enough?”

“I assure you, the Khal has not yet expressed disappointment in your sister. In fact I have seen him stare endlessly after her as we travel. He is ensnared by her beauty and never hesitates to seek her out with his eyes.”

If Viserys bothered to pay more attention to the Northerner’s spiel. He would have heard the wistful tone- borderline yearning expression in his words. Regardless, Viserys is only interested in his Kingdom and crown to be won back. So he does not hear the budding emotions in the northerner’s words.

“Of course…… my sister- has she proven her uses? What more could this savage Khal want? I’ve provided him a wife, who he could freely fuck- one blessed with royal blood. Believe me when I assure all that he will never find such a quality brood mare such as my very own sister. Daenerys is but a woman but she is a Targaryen and quality flows through her veins. He should be thanking me!”

Jorah hesitates to speak, wary of how mad Viserys appears. Yet the Targaryen is waiting for him to say something.

“The Dothraki are waiting for news that the Khaleesi has been blessed with a child. Until then they are reluctant to march for Westeros.”

Jorah should have known his words would not be appreciated. Viserys turns to him with eyes filled with fury.

“Are you suggesting they believe my sister to be weak!? Unable to produce children? If it is an heir they want all the savages need to do is fuck her!! Demand their Khal take her over and over- each night until her belly swells with a babe! Perhaps it is their Khal that fails to produce an heir and not my sister’s womb! Insulting my sister is to insult my family- the blood that runs through MY veins!! DO THEY WISH INSULT TO THEIR KING!?” Viserys roars

Again Jorah hesitates to speak but his hesitance only adds to Viserys anger.

“Well? Speak up! Explain why I should not have these filthy mongrels beheaded and strung up as decoration for all my enemies to see!?”

“I’m afraid…… There has been talk among the maid servants. They whisper that the Khaleesi and Khal have not consummated for many nights now.”

“What!?” Viserys hisses angered so greatly his face turns red.

“Merely speculations, I cannot promise they speak true.” Jorah quickly assures.

It does little to calm Viserys, instead it only serves to anger him more.

“Then it is no fault of mine if no babe is born. It is the Khal! If he cannot fuck the girl properly then he fails to produce his heir. Is he so stupid he does not understand such a concept!!?”

Viserys is so angry he calls for the maid he assigned to his sister. The slave girl appears, wary but docile, she only dares to cast a brief look towards Jorah but swiftly bows.

“Tell me what you know of my sister’s nightly duties for the Khal!?”

The maid servant- Doreah, does not hesitate to report all she knows and has witnessed between the Khaleesi and the Khal. Her words only anger Viserys more and he expresses it by back handing her across the face.

He does not care that she whimpers, or even worries that it may bruise her face. Instead he glares, before grabbing her by the chin and pulling her close. Doreah stays still as it is her duty as a slave to listen to her master.

“Why have you waited to tell me such news!?”

“I-I’m sorry- Ack”

Viserys traps her throat with his hands, uncaring for how her eyes bulge with fear. He is angry, so angry that the roaring in his mind drives him to madness. Doreah turns purple and her hands frantically clutch at his grip, desperate for release. It’s not till she looks close to passing out, that he releases her. He lets go and drops her carelessly to the ground.

He glares at her with disgust as the Northerner helps her to stand. When they both face him with caution and slight fear, Viserys sneers at them both. He ponders the problem and slowly thinks of a solution. He points a threatening finger at the slave girl and enjoys the way she flinches.

“You. As a whore once used at a pleasure house, I expect you to teach my sister.”

She nods frantically so afraid of what he may do next. It pleases him somewhat and so he continues to voice his thought process.

“If my _sweet_ sister is failing to seduce the Khal, you shall teach her to do so properly. Am I clear!?”

“Y-yes my King.”

Viserys smirks, the expression softens and he lightly touches her cheek. The action is intimate, gentle, and kind. She cannot help but lean into the touch.

“Excellent……. And if my sister does not birth a child of the Khal’s soon. I promise, I will gut you open and watch you bleed till the light in your eyes fade.”

She shivers in fear but nods.

“Do not disappoint me.” Viserys breaths before pulling her into a kiss.

Jorah watches from the side, he worries now more than ever of what horrors the returning Targaryen’s may bring to Westeros. As far as he has seen, both Targaryen’s are mad. His resolve is stronger now more than ever. He cannot let either Targaryen sit on the iron throne again. 

**[Hiccup]**

Again, they ride and this new body aches. Though riding has become bearable, each day ends with a new mass of blisters and aches. It annoys him but he comforts himself by remembering the greater pains of life. Hiccup looks at his traveling company and wonders when their travelling will end. He is tired of the same routines and the same views. Most of all, he is sick of Lord Mormont’s constant attempts of conversation.

Hiccup cannot help but yearn for the skies and the wind in his hair.

The Banished Northerner has fixated on Hiccup, and he is extremely uncomfortable by the attention.

Since his last outburst, Hiccup has taken to ignoring the man. Though it helped little, and seemed to only encourage the man. It was disturbing how focussed the man was on his person.

They made camp, and once again Hiccup stumbled as he dismounted. Only this time instead of his servant maids, it was Jorah Mormont to catch him. Hiccup could not help the way he immediately stiffened. His fingers twitched for the blades concealed on his person. He pulled away from the Northerners touch harshly.

“I apologise Khaleesi.” Jorah mumbled lowly

Hiccup tried to make sure his eyes were not as wide as they felt. He tried to make sure this body did not tremble and reveal his weakness. It was hard, but he was sure he managed.

“If you are truly sorry, then you will never touch me again.” Hiccup scolds, the tone of his voice sharp.

He did not want to cause a spectacle, not when he could see his brother watching intently. The northerner stepped back hastily, and the space he left was quickly filled by his maid servants. They guided him to the tent he and his husband shared. Before the flap could fall back into place, Hiccup caught a glimpse of his brother’s watching gaze.

He could not help the cold shiver that overwhelmed him.

Never before has the madness in his brother’s eyes seemed so great.

At the same time, Hiccup felt an uneasy feeling form in the pit of his belly.

\---

No matter how much he protested, his maid servants refused to leave him be. They ignored his orders and almost _forced_ him into conceding to their care.

“Khaleesi is hurt. We must treat Khaleesi!” the maid servant called Irri firmly insisted.

Hiccup wonders if it is because of her bravery he conceded. Regardless, it is why he sits uncomfortably stiff as the three women tend to the blisters on his hands. One is by his feet, pouring a milky liquid on his skin and washing it with care. Another is by his right hand, dabbing at the blisters with a cloth and slathering a weird smelling concoction. The last stands by his left, and does the same. He tries not to clench his fingers or pull away, still uncomfortable with other’s touching the skin of his new body.

They continue to sit in silence for a while- almost to the point where Hiccup feels sleepy with boredom.

The atmosphere changes however, when the fire warming his eggs cackles and spits.

He wants to speak to his family, banter with them like he usually does when he is alone.

But he doesn’t- He can’t least he wish to be labelled mad like his brother. The Targaryen insanity is a poorly kept secret, and Hiccup does not want to be associated with the disease. He’d never met his father of this new life. He’s glad the man had been killed before his birth. No parent could ever replace his first.

“Do you ever wonder what a dragon may look like?” Doreah speaks shattering the silence among them.

When Hiccup doesn’t show any signs of scolding her, Irri replies.

“Dragons have been long gone for many years.”

Hiccup only blinks with mild interest when Irri offers him an apologetic smile. He wonders if she is apologising for their chatter, or trying to imply he shouldn’t hope for his eggs to hatch. He only gives a tiny smile in return, feeling awkward about the conversation. The first thing he had done in this new life, was read everything he could find about dragons. It had been easy. Viserys’ pride as a Targaryen, meant he’d told Hiccup everything he knew. What Viserys didn’t know, Hiccup found himself.

“A trader from Qarth told me the dragons came from the moon.” Doreah casually adds

Hiccup looks at her curiously. He’d not heard of such a theory and is intrigued by the tale. When she looks at him, she smiles gently and again Hiccup feels awkward. Irri snorts lightly and shakes her head.

“Dragon don’t come from the moon.” She corrects

The two maid servants challengingly exchange gazes. Whilst the third continues to gently wash Hiccup’s feet- as if she is in her own world. He can’t help but feel uncomfortable with the slow rising tension. How is he to speak with women when the only woman he ever felt completely comfortable with was Astrid? Now he is one of them, and still he struggles.

The fire cackles and spits again and Hiccup glares at the black shelled egg.

“He told me that there were once two moons. That the Moon was an egg. One day it moved too close to the sun and the heat of it caused it to hatch. From it flew thousands of dragons and they drank the suns fire.”

The fire sparked and Hiccup couldn’t help the smirk that formed on his lips. Unaware of how the maid slaves marvelled at the expression. Doreah smirked at Irri, gloating as she mistakenly thought she’d impressed him. Irri glowered annoyed with the arrogance in her eyes.

“Moon is no egg. Moon is goddess. Wife of Sun. It is known.” Irri countered

“It is known.” The third servant girl parroted.

Hiccup finally noticed how the tension in the room had increased. He desperately wished he could talk to his dragons, ask them for advice on what to do. He still had nightmares of the times Tuffnut and Astrid were unhappy with each other. However he couldn’t, and so he sat between the three feeling more uncomfortable than ever. It was that desperation that had him blurting out his next words.

“I was once told that the moon is a spirit. A guardian who watches over everyone and protects them from the dark shadows of the world.”

All three of the servant girls watch him, ensnared by the soft way he speaks. Hiccup does not know how gentle and kind he appears in this moment. Unaware of how he has managed to soften the hearts of these women with his voice and earnest expression.

“For each life lost, the moon spirit lights their path to the afterlife so they may find peace. However, every so often he would choose special human souls and bless them so they may be spirit guardians too.”

The tension is muted now, and he is aware of the three servant’s stares. The girl by his feet peers at him with wide eyes that seem confused but also amazed. Irri appears intrigued and Doreah is smiling too brightly.

“Prince Viserys is so creative.” Doreah praised

Hiccup’s mood sank and his eyes turned dark at the mention of his brother. Irri stiffened at the sudden heat she felt wafting from the area the dragon eggs were held. Doreah’s smile died as she realised her mistake in mentioning Viserys. The tension in the room returned with vengeance and this time Hiccup didn’t feel like making it disappear.

“Leave me.” He softly orders

“Yes, Khaleesi.”

Irri and the other servant girl, leave as ordered. Only Doreah hovers and hesitates to move. Hiccup tries to control the urging whispers that tempt him. He just wants to be left alone with his eggs. Why does no one leave him alone?

“Forgive me Khaleesi. I did not mean to disobey.” Doreah starts hesitantly

“Yet still, you stand before me when I had ordered you to _leave.”_  Hiccup grumbles

The warmth in the tent rises and it makes Doreah uncomfortable. Hiccup takes no notice, his gaze intently focused on his eggs and the flames they are comforted by.

“Your brother has given me orders, Khaleesi. He worries for you and the Khal.”

Hiccup doesn’t manage to hide how he flinches. There’s no good news to be had if Viserys is becoming _‘concerned’_ with his marriage. If either Doreah or Hiccup looked to where the flames burned, they would note how it grows brighter. They don’t notice anything.

“What orders? What did my brother tell you!?”

He tries to keep his voice level but it shakes just slightly. He’s not ready to face the mad insanity of his brother. He cannot reason with a mad man. At least with his husband, Hiccup can train him. Viserys however? Viserys is capable of cruelty without reason. He knows that this female body of his would stand no chance against his brother. He also can’t use his methods on Viserys like he does the Khal.

Doreah ignores how the Khaleesi trembles. She has orders and she holds greater fear of Viserys than she does his sister. It is a mistake to assume Hiccup is not a threat, but only in time will people know.

Hiccup stops breathing for just a second when she moves directly into his line of sight. She is smiling at him coyly, a sly little smirk that he’s seen Tuffnut use on occasion. She steps towards him, sauntering with her hips swaying and drawing his attention. Hiccup feels sick in his stomach as she moves forward and whispers closely.

“He wishes I teach you the ways of seducing a man, Khaleesi.”

For a few seconds, all Hiccup feels is shock with a little bit of fear. The panic is overwhelming and he fears what his mad brother may do to him if he does not comply. Then he feels a prickling burn in his chest and once he focuses on the feeling- the sensation roars. The tent is suddenly scorching hot and Doreah feels sweat form on her brow. She stumbles back unnerved by the sweeping of heat in the tent. She moves to temper the flames that warm the eggs, shocked to find them so blazed and strongly burning. Before she can move or even touch the shrine that holds Hiccups eggs, he grabs her.

Doreah hisses in pain at the sting of Hiccups grip. Her wide eyes look to him in shock and pain, but Hiccup is blank faced.

He sees it now, the disrespect and dismissal. She does not fear him and he should feel glad. He knows how to deal with people who see him as such. But Hiccup is not useless like he was once upon a time. He is Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, son of Stoick the Vast and Valka. His mother was not weak and his father was great. He rode Dragons and fought tribes and won wars. He is the Night Rider, Champion of Dragons.

She **_WILL_** show him **_RESPECT!_**

“What would you teach me then?” Hiccup muses with amusement

Doreah shivers and tries to free her hand but cannot. So she ignores the sting and steadies her voice.

“The Khal has not bed you, I will show you how to please and seduce him. A women does not need to be taken like a bitch, I can show how to control him.”

The more Doreah talked the more confident she grew. It was obvious to Hiccup that she took pride in her bedding skills. He can’t help but chuckle at how confident she is in thinking he knows nothing on how to please.  Though this body may have been a virgin before the Khal, Hiccup was not. He knew just what a woman could do to please a man. Astrid was an incredible lover and much of her talents still played clearly in his mind if he thought to reflect on the memories.

The dark urges in his mind whispers for him to show her.

So he does.

He maintains eye contact, ensuring he is all she sees. They’re so close that the slightest twitch may bring them together. She is smirking at him with approval, and Hiccup grins at how she foolishly thinks she is still the teacher in this situation.

“Very good Khaleesi. It is you who is in control.” Doreah praises

She opens her mouth to say more, her hand lifting to touch Hiccups neck. He stops her from doing so by twisting and pushing so she is forced back on the work bench. He sees the shock, surprise and slight glaze of fear in her eyes. He pushes her against the bench and climbs so he traps her between his thighs. Not once does he release her wrists, keeping them above her head and holding tightly. 

He sees her swallow and he gifts her with a duplicate coy smile like she had given earlier.

“When you see my brother….”

Hiccup leans forward and presses the tip of his nose to her cheek. He whispers hotly into her ear and spitefully sneers the rest of his sentence.

“Be sure to show just how _greatly_ in **control** I am”

He feels her shake beneath him and the dark urges in his mind expresses their disgust. He sees her arousal through the thin cloth that keeps her modesty. Hiccup releases her and glares at her darkly.

“Thank you very much for the lesson. Now leave me.”

\---

Doreah runs quickly out of the tent. She does not stop until she is alone and out of sight. Her heart is racing with both fear and arousal. She is shocked and humiliated that the Khaleesi- who has only ever fucked one man- has turned her so wanton. As she calms, she tries to reason with why she’d felt so aroused. It was the heat, it had to be the heat. The tent had been near scorching and she’d simply felt too hot. Yes- it had to be the heat of the tent clouding her mind and turning her weak. Her fingers brush against her wrist and she hisses at the sting. She tries to ignore how her fingers shake as they trace the red blistered skin around her wrist where the Khaleesi had held her down.

‘It had to be the heat’ she firmly fools herself into believing. She then loses herself to the humiliation of being at the mercy of the Khaleesi. The idea forms due to her angry embarrassment and fear of how Viserys may react if she does relay the Khaleesi’s message. Doreah stupidly fools herself into believing the idea to be great. Unaware that she is dooming herself and preparing her own death.

**[Khal Drogo]**

He is eager to retire for the night. He does not waste time in drinking by the fire with his men. As soon as he is able, he enters his tent. He is eager for another fight against the dragon and warrior in his dreams. He wants to win and prove his worth to his wife’s ancestors. However, when he enters the tent, his little wife is nowhere to be found. He turns to seek her and drag her back so she may drug him again. But then his attention is snagged by the three eggs resting by the fire.

He’d not given his wife’s eggs much attention. Most often he only ever saw them when he woke and readied for sleep. He knows however that his wife loves the stone looking objects fiercely. He has seen her whisper and cradle them, occasionally heard her laugh and talk as if they can speak in return. He thinks of the dragon beast in his dreams and he wonders. Would these eggs have been just as large and fierce?

Drogo moves closer, and the flames that warm them seem to beckon him. He doesn’t even realise he is reaching to touch the eggs until his hand stings from the heat. It is the night black egg that he is most entranced by. He can’t seem to pull away and so his hand burns as it touches the shell of the egg. He groans out in pain until finally he wrenches his hand away from the shell. Shaking his hand in hope to alleviate the pain, He studies the wound.

It will need a healing slave and to be bandaged but he has suffered worse. 

Oddly he thinks of the burn as a warning. He wonders if it is an omen, allowing him some knowledge of how badly he will wound if he were to lose to the warrior in his dreams. It had not taken long for his hand to burn and the pain was hard to ignore. He could only imagine how burning entirely would feel.

The flap of the tent flings open and in stumbles his little wife and her servants. He narrows his eyes accusingly when he sees how she sways and moans.

“What have you done!?” He snaps with threat.

Irri bows and the rest follow her lead. She does not meet his gaze but she also does not release his wife. For that he is impressed, but his concern over his wife is greater.

“The Khaleesi is sick.”

He takes his little wife into his arms and startles at how hotly she burns. He cups her chin and forces her eyes to meet his. Those purple eyes look dazed and dark, he feels her body shiver in his hold. One of the servants says something and it causes Irri to glare.

“What did she say!?” He orders

“The whore slave believes Khaleesi sick because of night cold, she said for Khal to warm Khaleesi in bed.” Irri reluctantly answers

Drogo presses his hot skinned wife closer to his body. Its obvious Irri hates the whore slave. He can’t help the smirk on his lips when he dismisses them.

“Get out. I will tend to my wife.”

They nod and move to leave, none of them noticing the smug smirk on Doreah lips. Before Irri completely leaves the tent Drogo speaks to her.

“Tell Rakharo to stand guard. Kill anyone who dares to try and disturb me tonight.”

Finally it is just him and his little wife. She wiggles out of his hold and flops back on to the bed. He feels displeasure at seeing her so heavy and moves to strip her so she can feel cooler. He is startled when her hand instead stops him and pulls it to her face. It is the hand he had burned by touching the black egg. She holds it tightly and her touch is hot- not so hot it burns but a pleasant warmth.

She is speaking something in her language and again he doesn’t not know what she says. She looks up at him and his cock stirs at her purple eyes. She repeats her words again and he just stares at her intently for a few more seconds. There’s a crackling sound from the fire and it jolts him from the trance he had fallen into. He shakes his head and moves back to stripping her bare. She writhes under his rough handling. Releasing shallow gasps and rolling her hips slightly. He had first thought it was because of the heat. It’s not till he catches sight of the moisture between her legs that he clicks.

He has never seen his wife slick before he has entered her. He is fascinated and he touches her curiously. She lets out a moan and his eyes widen at the sound. She looks at him and repeats whatever she had been saying before. Suddenly Drogo has a better idea of what she is begging from him.

The tent is growing hotter and his blood pulses in his ears. He can’t stop his hands from roaming her burning skin. It becomes so hot, he is forced to strip as well- not that it was much of a problem. She grips at his arms and continues to beg and he moves to mount her. However a loud snapping spark wakes him from the sudden lust. The burn wound on his hand distracts him and he remembers his eager wants to battle the warrior in his dream. It causes him to stop his actions and shake his head.

_“No.”_ He voices

She cries out when he moves away, allowing her space on the bed. She tries to pull him closer and has begun to move against his naked skin. The press of her hot skin and the sensation of her slick on his thigh is incredibly tempting. Still he refuses, because he has a warrior to beat before he may touch her again.

“Please! Please! Please!” 

He startles at hearing her speak his language and wonders when she had begun to learn. He makes a note to order Irri to teach his wife more words.

“ _No.”_

“Please, Drogo!”

“ _NO!_ I will fight the warrior first.”

She begins to cry and he wipes at her tears regretfully but repeats again the word No. He kisses her then, and decides to show his passion and want through the kiss. It’s messy and he is shocked at how eagerly she returns his passion. Their tongues tangle and he is consumed by her warmth, smell and taste. He forgets briefly that he needs to defeat the warrior in his dreams first. Yet again the loud crackling and sparking of the fire wakes him.

Drogo then realises his positon and startles at the intensity of his wife’s purple eyes. He growls and moves to mount her, like usual but she snaps at him sharply and fights against him. Angrily he moves to force her into position but she is too hot to touch. In his confused shock she straddles him and he is now beneath her. She is whispering words in her language in his ears. She presses kisses to his skin that leaves a burning tingle in its trail. Drogo wonders why he has not fallen victim to the drug. Why is he still awake?

His questions are soon forgotten when she takes hold of him. He fights to move again and yet he can’t as the grip she has round his wrist burns him much like black egg had before.

“Stay. Listen. Please!” She orders.

**Orders!**

Perhaps it’s the fact he’s never had a woman command him. Maybe it is the way her purple eyes seemed to blaze with a fiery determination. The unbearable heat of the tent or maybe the ache of his cock for her cunt. Drogo will never be able to know why or just how this night came to happen. As he is only a man and he’d been without a good fuck for so long. He had his beautiful wife taking what she wanted and he wanted her all the more. So Drogo forgot about the warrior in his dreams and the curiosity he held towards dragons. All that he could see, smell, touch and hear was his wife and the pleasures she took- no _stole_ from him.

\---

He doesn’t even realise he’d fallen asleep until he finds himself standing at the edge of a grassy cliff. The warrior is waiting for him but she is not dressed for battle. He is too happy, too sated to want to fight and so they stare at each other in silence. She glares with him so fiercely and he remembers that he was to defeat her to prove his worth for his wife. He panics and wonders if by giving in to his wife’s pleads he had ruined his chances.

The yellow haired warrior roars at him as she charges and he braces for the impact. He does not expect the blue scaled dragon to fly directly above him. He feels fear at watching the scaled beast open its jaw and then he too roars in fear as he is consumed by the flames of the dragon just as the warrior reaches him. He has his eyes so tightly shut, expecting death and pain- fire and blood, but there is only silence. When he opens them, the warrior is standing before him with tears in her eyes. The dragon flames are blazing around them and they stand in the very centre of the flames.

“You have to protect him. Save him. He needs someone until Toothless hatches. Don’t let him break.” She says with a croaky voice.

Drogo knows that she can only be talking about his wife, and he thinks it must be a language thing that causes him to hear wrong. Never the less he nods and swears to all she demands. The fire around them begins to die and then several other figures began to fade into sight. He thinks they must be his wife’s ancestors despite none of them sharing features. They are intimidating to face with dragons at their backs barring teeth and roaring fire.

As they all begin to fade out of sight, Drogo knows that he is slowly waking up. He needs to know one last thing before he leaves and so he cries out to the warrior.

“Tell me, who are you?”

She smirks and despite the tears in her eyes she looks mighty.

“Astrid, Wife to Chief Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III”

She waves at him and he sees a black burn scar on her hand. He stares at its shape and notes that it looks much like a dragon.

\---

Drogo wakes up with a gasp and immediately feels pain on his hand. He checks the burn he’d gotten from the egg and finds the very same symbol in black scarred on his skin. He looks to where the black egg is kept and stares at, wary and even more cautious of the thing. It’s not till he realises that his little wife has been much too quiet that he decides to check on her. He startles at noticing she is awake but instantly grows alarmed at seeing the dark glare on her face.

**[Hiccup]**

There is a change among the camp after that night. No one can explain what is different, they can all simply feel it. The Dothraki find themselves anxious each time their Khal’s presence is noticed. Viserys does not like the unease he feels and it drives his temper rampant. The Targaryen had thought Drogo getting to fuck again would bring about progress. Doreah felt the same unease but she had more reason to feel as such. It had not been easy drugging the Khaleesi’s drink under so many watchful eyes. She’d had to pay a lot for the herb that would cause the Khaleesi to want to fuck the Khal. It was an expensive herb sometimes used at whore houses.

Regardless, there was a change among the camp and no one knew why.

No one noticed how the air around Hiccup sizzled with heat. No one noticed how he watched Doreah, carefully tracking her movements. All just decided he was being quieter since sharing a bed with the Khal again. They left him alone out of sympathy. Jorah Mormont, most of all could barely contain the pity filled gleam in his eyes each time. Hiccup couldn’t care less about any of that.

He’d made a mistake.

He’d had thought that in this new life, he had already identified those who would be his enemies. He’d anticipated and planned, readied himself against the **_MEN_** of this world. He did not think the women would betray him as well. Hiccup ached in his core and couldn’t even lay the entire blame to his husband. He winced at the hazy memories of his begging pleas and pleasurable screams of ecstasy.

The roaring beast in his chest burned hotter and as night settled around their camp, Hiccup knew tonight would be his time to strike.

Under the light of the moon, Hiccup moved in the shadows, silent and unseen. He’d was dressed in the darkest clothes his husband owned, and armed with his makeshift weapons. None of the Dothraki noticed his silent prowling in the shadows. He was one with the night, embodying his dragon’s nature effortlessly.

He slipped into her tent without sound and did not waste time in covering her mouth with the drug soaked cloth. Her muffled scream of surprise easy to smother. She was a little heavy to move but he managed. From there he wasted no time in strapping her to the horse he’d smuggled out of sight. Securing his victim Hiccup rode of.

Had he bothered to think things through entirely, he would have noticed Khal Drogo following him from the shadows. Hiccup was simply too driven by the dragon inside who thirsted for fire and blood.

Hiccup rode till he was far away enough none of the Dothraki would hear or care about any noises they may hear.  Untying the victim on his horse’s back, He began to set up. As he did so, memories of his Friends and family in his before life came to mind. He almost felt guilty, wondering just what they would think of him after he finished with the slave whore. Easily, the dragon in his chest roared louder and burned away any guilt he might have felt.

When he was done, Hiccup admired his handy work briefly before moving to wake the girl up.

Doreah gasped fearfully when she woke, only to panic at seeing a darkly dressed figure standing before her. She screamed and pleaded for her life, and Hiccup had yet to even do anything. She was begging and offering to trade things and spy on the Dothraki. Hiccup was somewhat entertained by her desperation, amused at how quickly she was willing to sacrifice every single one of the Dothraki for her own pathetic life.

“-there are dragon eggs. I can get them for you. Please just let me go.”

Hiccup couldn’t help it anymore, he began to laugh. He giggled daintily and slowly uncovered his face. He watched with fascination as Doreah’s face paled entirely.  

“There’s no need to be afraid…..” Hiccup solemnly spoke, before gently caressing her face.

Doreah flinched and began to beg and cry again. Hiccup nodded in sympathy but his eyes were dark and within them a raging fire burned. When he’d been a child in this life, Visery’s often had a saying. _“You don’t want to wake the dragon”_ he would coo after he’d finished beating him black and blue. Hiccup had never understood just why he would say such a thing. Now he understood perfectly.

All of the Targaryen’s are born with sleeping dragons in their souls. No one should ever wish to wake the dragon. For this dragon only ever demanded one thing……… Fire and blood.

“When I was little…… my brother liked to play this game with me. He called it the sleeping dragon. ‘Don’t wake the dragon Daenerys’ he would sing. So no matter what he did to me I had to stay quiet….. I couldn’t wake the dragon.”  Hiccup hummed as he reached for the whip blade he’d crafted.

Doreah whimpered at the sight of the weapon. She didn’t dare cry out or speak, too terrified to make a sound other than the whimpering noises that escaped. Hiccup played with the whip weapon, wrapping it round his hand until he reached the bladed tip. He pressed the blade against her throat and watched the shallow cut bleed.

“I always wanted to be the dragon, but Viserys would never let me.”

Doreah screamed as Hiccup dragged the blade down slicing across her shoulder and chest. It was deep enough that she bleed a quicker but not fast enough to die quickly. Hiccup began to laugh again, and despite the tears in his eyes- one might think he was happy in this moment.

“Shh! You don’t want to wake the dragon.” He mockingly whispered before slicing again.

Hiccup cried fat droplets of tears and laughed until he was a sobbing mess. He barely registered Doreah’s screams, just sliced and sliced until the red of her blood pooled beneath her. The red liquid stained everything it touch. The dirt, his hands, grass and clothes. The metallic smell so strong against his senses he felt dizzy. She had fallen silent a while ago, her throat too raw to get another sound out. He’d stopped laughing as well, and the tears in his eyes had dried. Hiccup just stared at the mess he made with a blank expression.

“I-I’m Sorry…. Please. P-please….. No more.” Doreah croaked

Hiccup just stared at her.

Please.

No.

More.

Three words tainted by the sound of his own frantic moans. Three words he uttered repeatedly and begged of his husband. Three words he’d never dare use again.

Hiccup **_HATES_** those three words.

One more slice…… _*SLINK*_ …….. And her garbled choking follows.

Numbly, Hiccup marvels at the spluttering waterfall of red that pours from her throat. She’s still somewhat conscious enough to hear him. So he decides to bid her farewell, leaning forward he whispers in her ear.

“You shouldn’t have woken the dragon.”

Doreah dies before him in a pool of red. The last thing she sees is Hiccups blank faced stare and purple eyes that burn. Then she knows no more, and the life in her is smothered.

The quiet is loud and Hiccup just sits in the mess he made. The dragon inside him is roaring, still unsatisfied, and he numbly follows its urgings. He reaches for Doreah’s corpse and kisses her brow, much like a mother would a child. There’s a sparking sound and everything around him _burns._

He’s numb to everything, all he feels is the dark pleasure of the dragon in his soul. Its loud raging roars vibrating in his chest. He watches as Doreah’s body burns into ashes, and all that is left is flames and smoke. The blood in the ground covered by black soot and fire. The roaring fire slowly dies, just as quickly as it sparked to life. The ground still sizzles from the lingering heat, and Hiccup is naked and bare under the sky.

He sits on the hot ground and just stares at the star filled sky. He hears movement but doesn’t pay it any attention. He is vulnerable, if an enemy found him, easily he could die. Hiccup doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything. All he feels is the slow fading heat of the scorched ground.

\---

**_“_** _My wife….?”_ The Khal cautiously calls

Hiccup looks to him and just stares at the Khal. He makes no move to acknowledge or even move at Drogo’s approach. Drogo is wary of approaching his wife. He’d watched her torture, and murder. What he’d just witnessed should not be possible. The sudden flames- He’d witnessed his wife **BURN!** Yet she sits before him unscathed and naked- Alive.

The burn scar on his hand stings and he remembers the warning from Astrid.

_‘Protect Him. Save Him. Don’t let him break.’_

Drogo kneels before Hiccup and cups his face. Hiccup’s eyes are glazed, foggy as if he does not see Drogo before him. Those purple eyes seem dead and Drogo snarls at the sight. He grips Hiccups chin so tightly it will certainly bruise. The pain clears Hiccup’s mind and those purple eyes narrow with warning.

_“Rest my wife….. Rest and let me protect you.”_

Drogo threads his fingers through Hiccups hair. The white strands shine in the night. They remind him so strongly of moon beams from the sky. Hiccup grips Drogo’s wrists tightly, and the skin his hands cover begins to blister with pain. Hiccup glares into Drogo’s eyes threatening, the Khal.

‘I am not weak. I am not a thing. Hurt me and you will **BURN!’** his purple eyes seem to say.

Despite the pain, Drogo steels his face and does not reveal how it hurts. Instead he drags Hiccup closer and whispers into his ears.

“My moon. My stars. My wife.”

Hiccup shivers and he suddenly understands that he’s not as alone as he thought. He slumps into Drogo’s hold and weeps, grieves at the betrayal he’d suffered and the pain of it all. Drogo says nothing, just grips Hiccup and watches in case they are happened upon. No one will witness Hiccup’s moment of weakness. When Hiccup finally succumbs to his exhaustion, Drogo wastes no time in covering his wife, and riding back.

They’re return is not as quiet and only Rakharo and Irri witnesses the Khal and Khaleesi return. They say nothing, understanding the threat in Drogo’s eyes. The Khal settles Hiccup and covers him. Before leaving their shared tent, he reaches for the dragon eggs. He gently places all three beside Hiccup.

Drogo has sworn an oath to protect his wife.

He will not betray that vow.

  


  


  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S: I'm on Tumblr, and you can also catch me over there if you want.   
> I did a bit of self promotion with this story so if you discovered this from Tumblr Hi!! 
> 
> Tumblr: tonyajace-182


	14. I see the Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's not alot I can really do with Punzie, seeing as the Tyrells are barely mentioned at the start of everything. In the end this is all that came to mind. Obviously she's still making changes, their just not as big as Jack, Hiccup and Merida.
> 
> If you are confused, Eugene is in Essos. Obviously he's the other dark character I'm going with in this story. He's not easy to write, so he kinda comes of awkward but I'll work on it.  
> I just love Oberyn you know, he was one of my faves. 
> 
> I get a lot of questions and Honestly you all amaze me.  
> \- The other dragon riders will pop up occasionally but don't have a big role  
> -Yes, abilities will become more obvious, especially next chapter. You'll get more info on Sansa and Pitch's connection and Bran's situation.  
> -Yes, Toothless will still have his memories of Hiccup from their before life.  
> -Not paid much attention to pairings for this fic, but am interested in opinions on who should be with who. No promises they'll happen but will be deeply and seriously considered. 
> 
> I will also not be following the Tangled series, as I don't really like the way Eugene and Punzie are developing there. I may briefly alude or touch on some character or scenes from the series but that does not mean i am following it. 
> 
> The next chapter will probably be posted in about 2-3 weeks as I've got exams.

**[Rapunzel]**

_Flower Gleam and Glow_

She dreams of a man- dark haired and brown skinned. He fights with a sword and laughs at the bloody carnage he leaves behind. His dark curls bounce as he clashes swords with his attackers.

_Let your power shine_

She can’t hear what he says only see how his lips move. He is handsome, intriguing and she feels spellbound by his eyes. The brown of his eyes remind her so much of chocolate- richly made, sweet and warm on her tongue.

_Make the clock reverse_

He cannot see her, and as such she witnesses more than what is proper. After the first accidental viewing, Rapunzel had been ashamed and embarrassed. She tried to control her dreams, but it was no use. So she ignored the perverse invasion of this man’s privacy. She found herself memorizing every scar on his body.

_Bring back what once was mine_

One dream showed her his slumbering form. Even in his sleep something dark haunted him. When he was not in battle, when he was no longer watched. She took note of how his eyes darkened and his smile turned cruel. Rapunzel understood then that he was a hardened man.

Broken.

_Heal what has been hurt_

She watches him play with a child. An orphan boy- dirty and sick with green pus bursting from infected wounds. She watches him care for the child. Guide the boy as if he was his own flesh and blood. It’s the first time she thinks the man to be truly happy.

_Change the Fates’ design_

Horror fills her the night she dreams of death. The city is filled with blood and fire. Dead corpses of Men, Women and children fill the streets. She cries out at seeing the orphan boy among the dead. Then there she sees him. He stands tall, with the burning city at his back and blood covering his entire person. He is screaming to the skies and her heart aches for him. He stalks towards a barely living man who stares up at him in fear.

_Save what has been lost_

She still cannot hear what they speak. Somehow though, she knows what has happened. The man that is barely living, had crossed him. She sees the riches on his neck and hands, the fine quality of his robes. The barely living man was a greedy man. Rapunzel looks at the city that burns and sees the dead that burn with it. She knows that no one had been spared.

_Bring back what once was mine_

When he slaughters the greedy man. Rapunzel can’t help but urge him to do worse. He does better than she hopes. It’s monster worthy, the way he tortures and punishes the greedy man. Even after the greedy man dies, he does not stop. He hacks and screams out his anguish until finally he can do more. Rapunzel wants to touch him, she wants to hold him close and comfort him. She wishes she could save him from his grief and the darkness he drowns in. When he moves, the sun has begun to rise.

The fire has died and all that is left is death and destruction. He walks through the carnage ignoring the blood and guts that cling to his form. Rapunzel follows him, she does not want to leave him alone. She can’t leave him alone to be swallowed by his darkness. He stops when he comes across the dead orphan boy. It’s hard to think him a monster when he kneels and cradles the dead boy like he is a new born babe. Rapunzel chokes on her tears and follows him. He works to dig the dead boy a grave. When he has finished the sun is high in the sky and all that’s left is the smoke of the city destroyed.

_What once was mine_

She does not see the marker he makes for the orphan boy until he has planted it. She is too busy staring at the broken man. He is filthy with blood, soot and guts. His black curls matted and sticky and his brown eyes hard with anguish. Rapunzel reaches to touch his cheek, naively hoping perhaps- if she willed it he would feel her comfort. Before she can touch him, he crumbles to his knees and sobs. She thinks he is sobbing a name and she assumes it is the dead orphan boy’s.

She feels the need to pray for the dead orphan boy as well. She moves to the grave and reads the name craved on his marker. What it reads stops her heart cold. She is frozen for too long, a flurry of emotion she cannot name overwhelming her. Carved into the stones is a name she’d never planned to see in this world. Yet there before her it stares back.

**Flynnigan Rider**

**Legends never die, they live on**

Rapunzel falls backwards onto the ground. She feels her heart pounding against her rib cage and she dares to hope. She looks at the man kneeling before the grave, sobbing a name she cannot hear. She rushes towards him and frantically attempts to move his face so she can stare into his eyes. She has to know. She needs to know. She watches his lips move and the longer she studies their shaping, the greater her hopes grow.

**_Ra….Rapu….Rapunz…..Rapunzel……_ ** **RAPUNZEL….**

She’s sure he is sobbing her name and her heart breaks. She can’t stop herself from crying as well and she breaths his name as if it is her last words.

_“Eugene!?”_

His head snaps up and for a second their eyes meet. The eyes are the windows to the soul, and she sees him. She sees Eugene and her heart bursts.

***GASP***

Rapunzel wakes with a scream that startles her hand maidens and the guards. They burst into her chambers searching for an attacker but only see her sobbing form. She looks mad, crazed and utterly insane. Her hair is wild, her eyes red with tears and she does not stop crying. She aches in her chest with both grief but also sheer relief. The spectacle she makes worries everyone so greatly, her family races to her side.

“Sister!? Margaery!!?” Garlan roars as he enters.

He wastes no time in pulling her into his embrace and she clings to him. Willas hobbles inside and he simmers with rage. Her father is roaring uselessly demanding the guards explain whilst her mother titters and fusses over Rapunzel like a clucking hen.

“Margaery? Shh… shh sweet sister.” Garlan comforts.

When Olenna happens upon the scene her wicked tongue is ready to spit poison. Willas stops her by placing a hand on her elderly shoulders. She narrows her eyes at his touch but does not pull away. Willas moves closer to his siblings and dismisses his mother with a wave of his hand. No one opposes the way Willas commands the room. Though Mace Tyrell is lord, it is Willas who holds the true power of command. Willas Tyrell is the greatest threat, he is the one to fear most of all from House Tyrell.

Rapunzel tries to calm herself, but it’s a struggle. Eugene is here. He is somewhere in this world. Alone and broken, shattered and full of anguish. He is searching for her, waiting for her- _grieving_ for her. When Willas cups her cheek she gives him her attention. She hopes he can see how she is happy. So full of happiness despite the grief and heart ache in her chest.

“A dream sister…. It was only a dream” Willas soothes

Rapunzel shakes her head and clutches his sleeves, imploring him to listen to how she speaks.

“It was more than dream. I had a dream and he was lost. Now he is here Willas. I saw him.”

‘Believe me, please’ she is begging. Rapunzel knows she must seem crazy, that her family have no idea on who she is speaking off. It does not stop her from begging Willas to trust her. She feels Garlan’s grip on her tighten and she pleads both brother’s hear her.

“I need to find him.”

It takes a few seconds but then Willas is smiling. He smiles at her and kisses her brow sweetly.

“Okay. We shall find him.” He assures

“Of course we will.” Garlan agrees though he has no idea what it is he has agreed to.

It doesn’t matter anyway, not when Rapunzel sobs out a relieved laugh and cuddles into her brothers embraces.

She does not care about the looks shared among the help and her parents. She’s forgotten her grandmother’s presence in the room. Rapunzel doesn’t care for any of it. Since she’d woken in this life, she’d simply been coasting. She’d felt lost- unsure of her purpose. Now….. Now she feels the bright burning determination in her soul urging her. She has a path to follow, and a dream to achieve.

She will find Eugene.

**[Willas]**

The days that follow Margaery’s crazed outburst heralded plenty of gossip. None were stupid enough to speak of such gossip around any of the Tyrell family, but it was known. Willas knew the fault of such gossip lay mostly with the female cousins his sister was forced to entertain. Margaery’s sudden change in behavior did nothing but encourage their whispers. Willas glared at one of the lingering maids. She was trying to peer over to where his sister sat.

Margaery had suddenly become obsessed with painting and drawing. It was never a secret that she was talented in such artistic manner, but never has she produced anything so detailed before. It was the subject of her art that had many talking. No longer did she paint landscapes of sunsets or sunrises. She didn’t paint flowers or gardens like she’d enjoyed doing so before.

Her paintings consisted of only one thing.

A man.

A man shadowed in fiery orange, red and black.

She sketched, painted and molded canvas after canvas. The man was often kneeling or riding on a horse that had a coat of copper red. Most times she shadowed his face with smudges of black charcoal. Rarely would she ever detail the lines of his face. When she did however, Willas often found himself shaken.

Though not exact, Willas is sure the man his sister paints is familiar in face. He worries over the implications his suspicions provide. This stranger his sister paints would change the game and he worried whether it would be for best or worst.

Garlan is worried, concerned over what could have caused the change in their sweet little sister.

“Do you know Willas? Do you know why our sister would suddenly change?” Garlan had suspiciously prompted

So Willas shared his suspicions. He told Garlan of their Grandmother’s ambitions and plans for Margaery. Then he spoke of how he saw her rage and destroy their secret garden and sob her heart out. He tells Garlan that he suspects Margaery’s dreams being prompted by her fear to marry. Garlan does not say anything but the tight grip of his fists tells Willas enough.

“And so? What scheme have you created?”

Willas hums and snaps the book in his hands shut. It was no secret that whilst Garlan is known throughout as a Gallant knight, it was Willas who secured him as such.

“The less you know the better brother. You simply concern yourself with supporting Margaery and leave the scheming to me.”

They both approach Margaery who has stepped back and is lost in thought, staring at her latest portrait. This time the man stands tall and the red on his coat is lighter and the shadows only cover half his face. It does nothing to lessen the intensity of his glare. The man is smirking a cunning smirk that speaks of cruel intentions. Their sister is staring at the man she has drawn with a lovesick expression and Garlan tries to hide how it concerns him.

“Have your dreams told you more of who this stranger may be?” Willas inquires with interest

Margaery’s smile is wicked and sly, but oh so bright. He has never seen his sister so filled with joy before. He’d thought he had but now he knows better. She seems so much more alive and Willas wants to know who this stranger is, and why he is important to his sweet sister.

“He is a thief.”

“A thief!” Garlan repeats

Margaery nods with laughter and adoration as she traces the strangers sketched face. She touches the picture as if it is a lover and Willas tries to see what endears his sister so greatly.

“He is a thief. He’d rob you blind and laugh as he does. He is handsome and he knows it, so confident some mistake it for arrogance. Self-less and caring, loyal and accepting. He is a fierce protector” 

Willas tries to picture the cruel and glaring stranger as the man his sister describes. He struggles but then another man comes to mind. Willas finds his theory is seeming more plausible the more he learns of this stranger. Garlan stares at the picture his sister painted and the man she describes and sees no connection. The worry on his face grows greater.

“And this thief of yours, has he stolen from you before?” Willas hums with a smirk.

Margaery’s smile turns fond and her brothers see a glow in her eyes that had not been there before.

“I suppose it was more of a trade than a robbery.”

Willas knows with certainty now. The stranger his sister paints is more than a stranger, he is the only man she will ever accept. He can see how Garlan too understands. The sigh of resigned acceptance he releases is incredibly telling.

“How did such a strange man manage to steal into your dreams sister? Have you been sneaking beyond our sights? In what way could you have met this thief!?” Garlan groans sulkily

Margaery only laughs and fondly loops her arms around his waist. She smiles at Garlan so brightly, he thinks that the sun must have poured one of its beams into her smile.

“Steal into my dreams? No, I suppose it is more that he has always been my dream. Only I’d never thought him a possible dream to fulfil until now.”

Willas notes how she speaks in riddles. He’d noticed when she was all but a small girl, how her words were always laced with some puzzle or riddle, waiting to be solved. It only serves in strengthening his resolve. He gathers one of the sketches of the stranger, one of the few that details his face.

As casually as possible, he speaks.

“Well brother, if a thief has stolen something so precious from our sister. It is only fair we seek him out and demand he return it to her.”

He soaks in the pride and burst of affection he feels at seeing her eyes widen in pure blessed joy. He sees how that overwhelming joy causes tears to gather in her eyes when Garlan rolls his eyes and scoffs with tease.

“Stole? Did you not hear Margaery? I’m sure she said traded. If I’m going to hunt down this thief it would solely be to discover what exactly he traded with our dearest rose. I’m most interested in how this thief managed to sneak into our gardens and steal away without harm.” Garlan muttered the last part.

The two brothers barely stood their ground when Margaery let out a loud bellowing squeal of laughter and tackled the two tightly with a hug. The Tyrell siblings spent the rest of the afternoon in high spirits. The gossip surrounding Margaery’s sanity lost its weight at seeing how beautifully she smiled and laughed.

They were in the gardens when one of their cousins all but demanded Margaery sing for them. Willas made note of her name for later retaliation. Garlan’s glare would be enough for now. They were quick to assure Margaery not to sing if she did not feel comfortable. To their surprise she giggled and waved away their words and agreed.

Word spread quickly and soon the garden was filled with eagerly waiting eyes.

She did not sing often and the few times she did it was mostly humming and a few words here and there. It had always sounded lacking and empty. The memory of her voice and that strange song he’d spied her singing in the gardens came to mind and he shivered at the broken heart ache each word was sung with.

So he is wary of having her sing in front of so many. It would not help if they hear her haunting tune, only aid the whispers that she is mad. They provide her a harp and she settles herself comfortably before beginning, above everything Willas did not expect to hear his sister sound so beautifully full of life.

The garden is completely silent as she sings and the roses around her appeared redder than usual. Everything seemed brighter as she sang and Willas wondered if this stranger had always been what was missing for his sweet sister.

“ _And at last I see the light_

And it’s like the fog has lifted

And at last I see the light

_And it’s like the sky is new_

 

_And it’s warm and real and bright_

And the world has somehow shifted,

All at once everything looks different

 _Now that I see you_ “

 

As the song comes to an end, the tune lingers among the silence of her audience. Then it is broken by the applauding claps of the help and their parents. She has awed them with words sung and a smile. Willas melts away into the shadows, happy to see his sweet sister so bright. He has made up his mind and so he leaves to start on his plans right away.

For his sister, Willas will do anything to ensure her happiness.

He summons his most trusted and gives to him a letter and the sketch he’d taken of the stranger.

“Make haste and deliver this only to its intended.” He orders

He cannot risk sending it by raven.

“Yes my lord.”

Willas narrows his eyes threateningly and does not hold back with his warning.

“You will protect that letter with your life. Betray me and I will see to it, your family understands the consequence of your betrayal. Do not show _anyone_ but the intended the letter in your hands.”

Satisfied, he motions for him to leave and contemplates the challenges his scheme may face. He can only hope now the connections and friendships he’s maintained over the years will aid him. Above all, Willas is well aware that greatest thorn in his plans is his very own grandmother.

But for Margaery, he will never hesitate.

**[Olenna]**

There is a change in her granddaughter. She sees it so obviously, and she ponders on what is the cause. _‘Madness’_ they whisper, _‘ill in the mind’_ they gossip. Olenna had not been pleased hearing such outrageous poison. However, she could not deny that it had worried her. If word had spread beyond Highgarden it would damage Margaery’s chances of marriage and reputation. She’d done her best to shut up the gossips and swift in pulling out the weeds in her garden.

Still……… despite the improvement in her granddaughter’s demeanor, Olenna was not sure it would last. She did not want to risk waiting and have the girl suffering another nightmare or some episode.

Her grandsons were too consumed in caring for their sister. Now was not the best time to whisper to them her ambitions of seeing Margaery become **_THE_** Queen. It must be fate, she decided, that blessed her with having a rose beyond Highgarden and blooming by the side of a young stag.

She wrote a letter and sent it off with a raven.

As she watched it take flight and fade off into the distance, she assured herself.

She will see to it that House Tyrell will flower and bloom above the rest.

She will prove just how strong they can grow, stronger than wolves, lions, dragons and stags.

With Margaery, there is no way they could possibly lose the game.

**[Loras]**

He stirs from his sleep and reads the raven that had come from home. He had not expected his grandmother to send him a letter. He reads and easily ciphers through the coded riddles she writes with. Once he reaches the end, Loras is unsure of what to think.

His grandmother is writing to him and what she implies is treason.

Most worrying is how her plans revolve mostly around his sister.

Margaery, he’s not heard from her for a few weeks now. It worries him.

Taking a deep breath, Loras thinks his grandmother’s plans over, contemplating every detail and possible consequence. Then he thinks of Margaery and all the memories he holds of her. He thinks of her soft smiles, sly games and fun little tricks. He remembers the many times he’d seen her cry. He keeps in mind the broken gleam that always seemed to hide in the darkest, deepest depths of her eyes and smile.

He thinks to himself, there is something broken inside his sweet sister.

Perhaps…….maybe…….. Possibly…….. Would she be happier as a Queen?

“Loras? What is it?”

Turning, Loras stares at the man in his bed and studies his naked form. The warmth in his chest, the burst of pure emotion in his heart. He is not naive enough to think his grandmother would not use this man as a pawn in her game.

“Growing Strong……. Those are my House words” Loras mutters

Renly quirks an eyebrow in confusion but never the less humors whatever Loras is implying.

“And mine is ‘Ours is the fury’, though I may not be much when it comes to fighting with a sword, I do know my lessons.”

Loras bites at his lip and struggles to decide on what to choose. Seeing his worry, Renly sits up and grows concerned.

“Loras? What is it?”

Staring deeply into Renly’s eyes, Loras looks for a sign. Something that would point him in some direction. When Renly takes his hand and kisses it sweetly, Loras decides.

“Tell me…… what do you think of the Queen?”

Loras loves his sister, and she has always told him to follow his heart. He is simply listening to her words. When he next sees her he will check and ask if she truly wishes to be Queen.

Until then, Loras is much too selfish, and he is not willing to let the man before him go.

Not ever.

**[Oberyn]**

“A message? Dear me it must be urgent” he smirks with amusement before drinking more wine from his goblet.

Ellaria pressed against his back and kissed at his neck. He lost himself to the sensation of her lips, tongue and teeth on his skin. He cared little for the messenger who watched them uncomfortably. Oberyn peeked over to where the messenger stood, and couldn’t help the appreciative once over he gave.

Hm….. A thought to entertain perhaps, he knows Ellaria enough to know of her interest in the messenger as well. She obviously would not mind company tonight.

“I-It’s *cough* Lord Willas specifically expressed the great importance of ensuring no one but you’re eyes bears witness to this letter Prince Oberyn.” The messenger uncomfortably explained

He could not help but perk up in interest. Gently he stopped Ellaria’s distractions and sauntered towards the messenger. Despite his leering at the messenger before him, his mind raced with interest over what Willas Tyrell could possibly have written so importantly.

His friendship with the Tyrell was something of a fun hobby. The Tyrell heir had such a beautiful mind, in fact he’d not been subtle at all in his suggestive offers for a night with the heir. They shared quite a few interests with each other, and Oberyn felt attraction for such a thing. Willas Tyrell was the only Tyrell, Oberyn did not hold any ill feeling for. Their friendship something unexpected but not at all unwanted.

Their correspondence usually revolved on scholarly topics. Questions about old myths, history and the occasional praise of horses. Prince Oberyn could not think of a topic that would demand such urgency.

As he took the letter from the messenger, he deliberately grazed his fingers along the messenger’s. He licked at his lips and relished in the way the messenger flushed before darting his gaze to where Ellaria watched. It only made him chuckle deeply at seeing the red of the man’s face grow hotter. No doubt Ellaria had given her own lustful gaze.

His humour slowly disappeared however as he read through the letter. The shock of its contents causing him to read it several times to ensure he was not reading it wrong. The change was quite obvious, and his temper made itself known when he snapped at the messenger to give him the sketch mentioned.

Unraveling the parchment, Oberyn studied the drawing critically with intent. Minutes passed and only then………. he could no longer deny it any longer. The memory of **_her_** still so vivid, he could picture every detail as if it was only yesterday. Looking at the drawing, he could see **_her_** in the strangers face. He could see the combination of their features in the sketched man’s face.

“My love?” Ellaria questioned

Oberyn shook and he beamed at her pressing into her hands the letter and sketch. As she read, he saw understanding fill her. His heart soared at seeing her happiness for him and he pulled her into a deep and intense kiss.

When they finally pulled away he voiced to her his joy.

“He is mine!”

“And he is handsome” Ellaria purred

Oberyn laughed and ordered for his daughters to be summoned. There was no jealously to be found in Ellaria because she too had loved **_her_** despite never getting to meet her. She understood **_her_ ** importance in his life.

Oberyn wasted no time in writing a response to the Tyrell heir, most eager to offer his help. He could not deny that he now held curiosity about this Margaery Tyrell. He needed to know more about the connection she held with this man from her dreams.

_My friend,_

_I’ve a new riddle to solve and a theory formed that may prove important to you. The old thorns among my garden grow sharper and I’m cautious at cutting them free just yet. Above all else my sweet rose has grown stronger each day but there was a moment in which I worried it would wilt. News has come to my attention of a thief that’s has stolen into my garden. I worry for my rose as it has become clear only this thief may cause it to ever bloom and blossom brightly. A sketch to warn you in case he may steal from you as well. Do tell me my friend, if I am wrong to consider this thief to be a snake in my gardens._

_Sincerely_

_Willas_

**[Eugene]**

He needs to bathe. The grime that clings to his clothes and skin is uncomfortable. The snickering and annoyed neigh of his horse has him doing his best to soothe the animal. He ignores the stain of red that transfers from its copper red coat to his filth covered hand.

“Just my luck to be stuck with another bad horse” he muttered

As if understanding the bloody beast snorts in his face and attempts to bite at his hand. Eugene glares and mutters into the stupid animals ears all the ways he’d eagerly decapitate it. The Horse had been wild, unbeatable, its previous owner was set on killing it after many fails at trying to tame it. He’d not been looking to buy a horse, but in a blink of an eye, he’d paid for the damn beast.

At first, he’d ignored the bloody thing, left it to run wild and be a nuisance, He hadn’t even bothered to leash it or anything. He fully expected the beast to leave, but it never did. Somewhere along the way Eugene found himself with a horse companion.

“I swear if this is some twisted Horse curse by Max, I promise you’re my next meal” He sniped again, ducking just in time to dodge its snapping teeth.

They take a break and he does his best to clean the bloody grime on the both of them. His only relief is that the stupid horse has a coat of copper red, so the blood on its skin is not too obvious. As he tries to clean he hears the galloping of horse hooves, and knows that he has company. They are two riders, sell-swords he thinks.

“You! Stranger!” One snaps

Eugene places a placating hand on his horse and pats it reassuringly.

“Stranger? He’s calling me a stranger can you believe that Copper!? Gone are the days where my name was known” He dramatically sighs

The horse nickers and huffs in his face, the both of them ignoring the two riders. He hears the sound of their swords being sheathed. Despite that, he continues to appear relaxed, not bothered by their company.

“From which direction do you ride?”

He adopts his most charming smile and does his best to look confused.

“Direction? Well that depends, would I be in trouble?”

They are eyeing him intently, and though he is unarmed he can tell they are still wary. To be fair, he can’t blame them for being cautious. He’s not exactly dressed for company in the present moment.

“Word has spread of a Rider and a bounty has been placed for his arrest. Many sell swords have been hired to see to it he is dead.”

Eugene hums as if he is contemplating going after the bounty himself. Being a sell sword himself, he doesn’t see any harm in accepting the job. The two men tighten their grips on their swords and never take their eyes of him.

“He rides a beast with a coat of copper red. There is talk about the carnage and blood he leaves behind in his travels. They say he is responsible for the bloody deaths and destruction of Yunkai.”

“One of the slave cities!! There’s no way one man could possible destroy a whole city on his own.” He gapes with shock

“They are calling him the Blood Rider…….”

It’s not a bad name and he is somewhat impressed with how quickly they’ve named him. There’s no use in pretending anymore, it’s obvious they know it is him they are searching for. He’s not exactly squeaky clean and the blood of his enemies still stick to him. He must smell like something retched as well.

To him, it felt as if it all happened within a blink of the eye. When he comes back to himself he is bloody again and there are two corpses at his feet. He drops the dual blades in his hands and laughs. He looks to his horse and finds it sniffing through the corpses as if it’s searching for a meal.

He’d made a mess again and the red of it all stains him once more.

Eugene laughs like a man possessed before sighing and talking to the two corpses.

“Sorry about this guys. No hard feelings huh?”

He hums as he robs the men of whatever they have that may be useful to him. He finds the scroll that orders his assassination and shows it to his horse.

“Well would you look at that, I’m a wanted man again.” He says with a dark grin and a cruel smirk that hides the laughter he feels. His horse snickers and huffs and bites for the scroll and Eugene scowls and swats at its snout.

“You’re just jealous.” He sneers before they ride away again

They leave the bodies and the horses behind, certain they’ll be discovered at some point. He’s aware of the bounty for his life, and the thrill of being chased again excites him. Who knew that all it would take was him decimating an entire slave city to become a wanted man again. He’d not planned on destroying the city, and he’d not expected to be the only one to walk away alive. 

Since being born in this new world, he’d learnt to live with the sudden black outs. No matter how he tried, he just could not control it and so he stopped trying. He learnt to get used to the sudden gaps in memory. The stench and stain of blood and gore when he'd wake up from the blackout. No matter how often he cleaned he’d simply become bloody again within the next blink.

“The Blood Rider…… heh how fitting” He muttered, he rode onward even more bloody then before.


	15. Beware Beware The Boogie Man's Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a while for several reasons.  
> 1) Writer's block 2) I wanted to update my other stories 3) I wasn't sure if I liked what I was doing with this chapter.  
> However thanks to a few glasses of wine, a bottle of rum and some steady G.o.T/ Asoiaf fanfic reading, I managed to get something out. Now I'm not really good with Politics or Military stuff. This will be really obvious in upcoming chapters. Which is why my fics are heavily focused on the character relationships. I know the Starks are like the main focus atm- but G.o.T was kind of boring when it wasn't focusing on the Starks. (P.S I'm mostly following the Show.)  
> For this chapter I explore my version of the Stark children. We get a pov from each of them excluding Arya as she is the beginning pov next chap.  
> If it's not obvious in the chapter title, Pitch Black is introduced. If you re-read it a couple times I hint as to how Pitch Black made his way into Westeros when he talks with Bran. In fact alot of hints have been dropped in this chapter about a lot of things- specifically wording and so on. If you are all smart cookies keen to figure shiz on your own- you will figure it out no problem. 
> 
> I'm not sure If I'm happy with Sansa's pov- but I was really pushing it by that point. I wrote this chapter like in 9 hours without breaks. (Thank god for rum- Amen!). Although Jack's pov to Rickon's pov has been sitting on my laptop since like the last chapter had been posted. So you can probably understand my relief of finishing it. I'm also not sure If I wrote Pitch Black properly as when I re-watched Rise of the Guardians to re-evaluate his character, I just kept thinking about Jude Law as Dumbledore for Fantastic Beasts (lol). Also Joffrey just wouldn't come off as bratty cruel without seeming really fake to me. So I kind of just ignored him from Sansa view haha. 
> 
> Anyway. Read it, and tell me what you think. By the way if you really want quicker updates, leave me more reviews because I literally read through ALL of them starting from Chapter 1 in order suss out my progress and figure out if I have you all the same track as my intended plot. 
> 
> Also I think I may have overdone it with all the singing in this chapter but.... oh well 
> 
> If You want more info- and a quicker response: Follow my Instagram account --> @tonyajace182

**[Jack]**

A dark and cold entity had settled over Winterfell. The small folk of Wintertown whispered and trembled. The winds had grown fierce- colder and crueller since the young lord’s fall. Though it was not the cold or frost each night and morning that had them shivering. What the small folk grew wary of was the fall of night. Each day, when the sun would sink and the moon would rise….. the haunting shadows would come alive. Several men and women swore before the gods that they’d seen the flickering of black wisps. Yet none could prove it true. Worst of all; not a single grown up could sleep without the torment of nightmares, featuring their darkest fears and deepest secrets.

Perhaps the most disturbing thing of all were the Northern children.

The children were utterly joyful. Often seen playing in groups; cheerfully chasing each other and singing. It was the songs they sang that spooked the adults. A song cheery in melody and tune but taunting with mockery in words.

_Lock your doors and bless your beds_

_Pitch Black, Pitch Black he’s here again_

_Be good, be true and he won’t boogie with you_

_Tell Lies, Feel Fear, Pitch Black, Pitch Black_

_Your nightmares he’ll rule._

The song was maddening. It was all the children would chant and sing. Finally, a man had lost his patience and demanded the children explain the song. The child he addressed smiled cheekily and gladly explained the reason they sang.

“It’s Jack Frost sir. He’s angry!”

“Jack Frost! A murmurs tale, a fantasy made up by Lord Starks bastard!!”

“No sir. Jack Frost is real and the guradian of children. It’s he who guards the north, bringing the cold and Winter season. Lord Brandon Stark was his greatest believer you see! The cold winds and heavy frost is Jack Frost’s anger.”

“Then why sing of Pitch Black if it is Jack Frost who is angered!” The agitated man demanded.

The child grinned and slyly looked to the grown up.

“We sing to welcome him. He is the nightmare King, he feeds on fear and terror!”

“You sing praise to a demon! Are you stupid?!!” The man bellowed with incredulous disbelief. The disbelief he felt turned into wary caution at the childs carefree giggle.

“We children have no need to fear Pitch Black sir. Why would we when Jack Frost guards us fiercely. Pitch Black comes in search of justice.” The child wisely whispered.

“Justice? What Justice does this Pitch Black seek!?” A woman eavesdropping fearfully questioned.

Too many strange things had happened since Brandon Stark’s fall. Beyond that, the small folk all knew of the fierce belief the young Stark lord held for the Stark bastard’s tales. Their sleep had been tormented since the child’s fall and their days and nights freezing. Are they truly foolish to heed a child’s words?

The child sighed and whispered with warning.

“Lord Brandon Stark was pushed!”

“You surely speak lies child. The little lordling fell from his climb!” Another cried out angrily.

Suddenly the children all erupted with angry denials and tantrum level outcries.

“Tis True! Lady Arya saw it, she too hunts the attacker!”

The adults grew quiet, unnerved by the children’s adamant cries. How had they not noticed the children beginning to crowd? All the adults seemed to have been gathered in the centre, surrounded by the children at all ends. The small folk felt their fear grow greater at the strong beliefs on all the childrens faces. What happened next surely must be the influence of a demon. In perfect unison the children begin to sing and chant.

  _A child harmed, be warned, be warned_

_Jack Frost will come and bring his storm_

_The storm of winter he will bring_

_Be warned, Be warned_

_Winter is Coming!_

_Lock your doors and bless your beds_

_Pitch Black, Pitch Black he’s here again_

_Be good, be true and he won’t boogie with you_

_Tell Lies, Feel Fear, Pitch Black, Pitch Black_

_Your nightmares he’ll rule._

A distant chorus of wolves howling erupted, and some children began to giggle. The adults in the centre felt their hearts race with fear and horror as the children moved closer. Their voices raising louder and louder in song. Then they saw a man. A tall figure shrouded in shadows and dark wisps. His skin was pale grey in colour but gaunt like a starved begger. He smiled with cruelty whilst his eyes gleamed with excitement. When silence reigned once more, the adults were frozen in terror. He could only be who the children sang their songs about. The demon man……the Nightmare King.

The howling wolves grew louder. Lady Sansa’s direwolf appeared from the shadows and curled around Pitch Black’s form. Pitch pet the wolf and smirked, giving a tiny wave before tapping his lips lightly with his pointer.

_“You really should wake now…………Jon Snow”_

***GASP***

Jack jerked upright from the most unusual dream. The fire in his room had long died and the cold chill seeped from his walls. He stiffly darted his gaze around the room but found himself alone. Eyeing the shadows in the corner, he searched for movement but found none. It was a dream. Only a dream…….wasn’t it?

But why would he dream of Pitch Black?

Jack puzzled over the dream as he dressed, pondering on its meaning. Despite his concern, he’d be lying if he said he was against the idea. Pitch Black in Westeros! He wasn’t totally against the idea. The Winter spirit and the Nightmare King had a rather complicated past. One he’d never explained or bothered to share with the other guardians. The other guardians never understood why Pitch had been so intent on recruiting Jack. They never asked him why either, so he never explained. Looking out his small window, the solemn melacholy he felt over **_those_** memories came to mind. If anyone were to see him now, they would say his broody demeanor looked wrong on his usually smiley face.

Pitch Black in Westeros……. Heh the Nightmare King would love the opportunity.

The sudden burst of his door opening snapped him from his thoughts. Easily he slapped a smirk on his lips and greeted his visitor.

“Right. I give up! He’s your fucking brother Snow. I swear on the seas, if he bloody thinks I’m buying into any of the pretty shit he’s preaching, he’s stupider than I ever thought!” Theon ranted angrily.

With little prompting, Theon eagerly informed Jack on all the trouble his siblings had gotten into. Since Bran’s fall, all of the Stark children did their best to distract and temper their worry. Each day that passed saw the King grow weary, especially as the Queen nagged him constantly for their return to Kings Landing. King Robert refused to leave without Lord Stark. Jack’s Lord father refused to leave unless he was given an exact estimation of when Bran would wake or proof Bran was healthy.

The Lord and Lady Stark of Winterfell were much too focused on their injured child to pay any attention to their other children. A mistake in all honesty as this gave the rest of his siblings an incredible amount of freedom. Arya’s claim that Bran had been pushed was not forgotten. All of them had been eager to hunt down and seek out the person responsible. They would have too, if their Lord father had not reasoned with them. He’d calmly pointed out that none of them had any evidence and could make matters worse by falsely accusing others. Though he was right. It had left a sour taste in all their mouths to keep quiet.

They simply needed to gather evidence, and so they each had their own plans to achieve such a thing.

Arya prowled the castle with a pack of direwolves always by her side. Every day she went hunting with the wolves. She reasoned that the wolves would scent out the one responsible. However, she’d yet to come any closer to finding the culprit. She then became certain that a spy must have overheard her plans and warned the culprit. As such, she recruited Rickon and tasked him with terroizing the help. Always eager to listen to his favourite sibling, the little pup did as ordered. Again, little progress was made in discovering who pushed Bran. Instead, Rickon discovered other things that was just as interesting.

The youngest Stark son had been very proud to discover other spies. In his eagerness to satisfy his older siblings he reported his findings to Robb. Robb had not been amused to find spies working for Petyr Baelish among the whores. He’d been even less amused to discover spies for House Bolten, Frey, Lannister and Tyrell. He apparently rewarded Rickon for his stellar investigations and then set about with his own scheming.

A scheming Robb Stark was perhaps the worst thing to ever happen in Winterfell.

Just ask Theon.

Theon very pointedly stated his wish to be left out of all the Stark madness that had descended on Winterfell. Jack took that moment to really look at the Greyjoy heir. The poor guy looked exhausted and Jack felt pity for his state. Jack had retreated and simply confined himself to his room and visiting Bran. In his absence Theon had taken to trying to mind his siblings, and he could see the toll it’s taken on him.

Jack made a note to spoil Theon later for being such a great friend.

“You’re the best Theon, have I ever told you that?” Jack smirked

“Fuck you Snow. Make your bastard self-useful and tame your wild mutt siblings!” Theon sneered

Jack just laughed and pat Theon on the shoulder in a half hug. The Greyjoy apparently had not finished detailing the rest of Robb’s troublesome deeds. He spoke of how everyone simply assumed Robb busied himself with the army as a distraction. The Stark heir had taken to training with the men, discussing ‘hypothetical’ strategies for war and studying maps like a madman. Theon regales how everyone thought it amusing and humoured Robb’s inquiries. The Stark heir had gained plenty of respect for showing interest in the matters of war and getting to know the men of his father’s army.

It took a few days for Theon to realise that Robb was not simply training- that his war plans were not as ‘hypothetical’ as everyone believed. Robb Stark was seriously preparing to have House Stark declare war. Theon had snuck into Robb’s rooms and found his hidden plans. Apparently, Robb was simply waiting for Arya to find evidence against whoever pushed Bran. Once the culprit was named, the Stark heir would declare war against whatever House is responsible. His plans were either slaughter them all or banish the men to the nights watch and send the women and children over the wall for the wildlings to enjoy.

Jack couldn’t help but give a sceptic look at that part of Theon’s explanation.

“Don’t look at me like that! You’re brother’s a fucking madman, Snow!”

“Robb wouldn’t hurt a fly, Theon. I mean he’s my father’s son!!”

“Evidently Ned Stark’s honourable title was a rare aspect that’s not been passed down to his son. Mark my words Snow, Robb is no innocent saint.”

“Pfft, of course not. That’s Bran obviously!”

“We’re going to be at war Snow. Robb Stark is going to lead us to war and relish in the blood shed like the Blood thirsty wolf bastard he is!” Theon solemnly declared and Jack just laughed at how outrageous the idea was.

Jack ignored the look on Theon’s face that screamed ‘I’m not fucking joking’ and laughed harder. It was always good fun to rile up the Greyjoy, he was just too easy. No doubt that was all Robb was doing.

Robb wasn’t that dark and reckless.

Jack however noticed that there was one sibling Theon had not reported on. After a lengthy moment of companionable silence, Jack asked.

“And what of Sansa? Don’t think I didn’t notice your lack of elaboration on her recent activities.”

Jack narrowed his gaze at seeing the dark scowl that painted Theon’s lips. His gut clenched and he knew he wouldn’t be happy with the Greyjoy’s next words.

“Pfft, what do you think? She’s done nothing but be the perfect little lady for the Princes and Princess.”

Jack wondered if he should be concerned with the tone Theon spoke with. He pondered if he’d imagined the envy and sharp twinge of jealousy he heard in his friend’s words. Sansa was but a girl of 13 years, still a child in Jack’s eyes. He worried for her the most out of all his siblings. He knew Arya could take care of herself and Rickon. Robb was dangerous when he wanted to be. It was different when it came to Bran and Sansa. He was most protective over Bran but always worried for Sansa more.

He was afraid of the lengths Sansa would go to be perfect for Lady Catelyn.

There was something about Prince Joffrey that Jack didn’t trust. Usually Jack was always willing to give all children the benefit of the doubt. Not Prince Joffrey………something about him just screamed wrong to Jack.

Theon and Jack left, both heading for different destinations. Jack was on his way to visit Bran before breaking his fast. Theon had opted to walk with him before splitting to go practice his archery. They both came to a stop at hearing a soft giggle and dainty laugh. Both males knew instantly who such a laugh belonged to. The both of them, stepped back to keep out of sight so they could continue to observe.

Jack did not like the sudden swarm of warning his gut screamed with.

He watched as Sansa turned the corner with a sweet smile comfortably sitting on her lips. She looked radiant- happy and at peace as she walked with Prince Joffrey. It made sense that someone would have to occupy the Princes and Princess. Especially if Arya, Rickon and Robb were going mad with their hunt. There was no way Jack could entertain the royal children as he was a bastard. It would be an insult if he even dared to try. Jack felt his heart tug in fondness for his flame haired sister.  Sansa was always the more practical and logical one of his siblings. Though not as wild and blatant, her subtly and ways of distracting people from her sibling’s ill behaviour allowed them room to carry out their wild nature. 

It disturbed him to see the flirtatious smirk on Prince Joffrey’s lips each time he looked at his sister. Jack’s only relief was the carefully hidden glint of disdain and boredom in Sansa’s blue eyes. As tempted as he was to interrupt he knew it would only cause Sansa trouble and bring upon him Lady Catelyn’s wrath. Still, that small amount of relief did nothing to silence the warning of his gut.

It screamed for him to keep the Prince far away from his sister.

He turned to Theon, a mocking joke about the prince ready on his tongue, only to pause with interest. Theon was glaring over at the two, something not entirely new, but the clench of his jaw and twitch of his fingers was something unusual. Jack pondered on the expression his friend wore. Why would Theon be so infuriated at seeing Sansa and Joffrey together?

Theon spoke before Jack could, a mean comment spat before Jack could do it first.

“He’s a nasty little cunt. You’d want to keep your sister far away from the little shit Snow.” Theon sneered

“Tame my brother, Rally Arya and Rickon. Now you also want me to separate the Prince from my sister!? Honestly Theon, how much of a miracle worker do you think I am.” Jack drawled sarcastically.

“Believe it or not Snow- and I truly think it’s creepy- you got a weird sway with children and all your Stark siblings are possessive and greedy brat shits who hate to share. I bet on my life, if you whistle at them and shout stay, they’d fucking drop to the floor obediently. It’s not right or normal for a Bastard to have that much power, Snow!” Theon countered heatedly.

Slowly, a theory began to form in Jack’s mind. The more he thought on it, the more intrigued he grew towards the idea. A quick and subtle glance at his friend, and Jack had made up his mind.

“And that my friend is why I have you” Jack smirked

“Wha-“

“You and I both know, Lady Catelyn will demand my head if she catches me anywhere near Sansa. So…. Obviously, I’m trusting you with this very important mission. Guard and protect my sister from the nasty little Prince and I promise you, Robb will see the light and rethink his plans for war.”

Jack snickered at seeing Theon splutter incredulously. Oh yes….. This little theory will be fun indeed. Theon just made it too easy. Before Theon could properly gather his wits and say no, Jack hurriedly pat him on the back.

“Great! You’re the best Theon!” Jack cheered before rushing off.

He was skidding round the corner when Theon’s frustrated cry was heard.

“DAMN YOU SNOW!”

Jack threw his head back and laughed.

It truly was a fun way to start his morning.

**[Robb]**

He concentrated on the weight of the sword in his hand. The pace of his breathing, measured and quietly taken. He ensured he was calm, but most of all focused. An enemy charges two inches to his left _*strike*_ lifts his blade _*block*_ twists to stab _*rotate*_ but is disarmed. They are in need to cross a boarder, the Lord demands a fee. What should he do? Barter the fee _*block*_ Analyse the specific wording of the agreement _*block*_ in what ways will he benefit? _*stab*_

How much longer will their supplies last? _*slash*_ Which House’s will answer his call to arms? _*slash*_ what roads can they take without being detected? _*block*_ Will Bran wake? _*slash*_ who pushed Bran? * _slash*_ How will he get rid of Lady Catelyn? _*STAB*_

“Something on your mind boy?”

Robb snapped out of his schemes and hid the tension he felt. He relaxed when he realised it was only his uncle Benjen. They both sized each other up, Tully blue eyes meeting weathered Stark Grey.

Benjen silently contemplated his nephew. It had been years since he’d last seen his brother’s children. They’d most certainly grown, but Benjen had never anticipated them growing up to be so intimidating. It was a hard concept to come to terms with as these are _NED’S_ children. Never had Benjen thought the Quiet wolf would father such wild wolf blooded children. It was astounding, a fascinating thing. If they’d not inherited those Tully Features, no one would ever doubt they were Starks. Benjen had even seen the wolf blood shine in his red headed niece. Though she hid it so well, if one knew what to look for, it was as obvious as the sun on a sunny day.

“Uncle Benjen?” Robb greeted with a smile, wondering just how long his Uncle had been watching.

Benjen notes the wolfish glint in Robb’s smile. It sits naturally on his lips, as if he is simply a wolf in human form. He feels a mix of emotions at seeing the expression. Truly the gods sought to haunt both he and Ned, by lacing echoes of their deceased siblings in his nieces and nephews.

“You’ve been busy. Haven’t seen you without a sword in days.”

Robb laughs and Benjen thinks it sounds more like a bark.

“Is it such a bad thing?” Robb shrugs

It’s not like he actually cares if it would be. Training and war strategies now would only guarantee he won the war once Arya found evidence and the culprit. Grey-wind, who had been watching from the sides, let out a loud bark. It was almost as if the Direwolf could read Robb’s mind, and he shared a sneaky smirk with the wolf pup.

Recalling all the stress Ned confessed to feeling over his children. Benjen couldn’t blame his brother for the night of drunken confessions. At most, Benjen was just glad he was only an uncle. Sighing, he took a deep breath in preparation. He owed it to Ned- with Bran yet to wake and all that other nonsense, it was only right he ensure Robb was sound of mind. He hoped the boy wasn’t planning anything too wild. Something Benjen doubted with all the training and studying the boy was doing.

“Something on your mind?” Benjen subtly prompts.

Robb stubbornly meets his uncle’s gaze. He can read the obvious inquiry- see the suspicion gleaming in those grey orbs. He slumps his shoulders and performs his usual act of frustration.

“I worry for Bran. Most especially for father, the King is determined to see him ride for Kings Landing at his side. Once Father is gone, I’ll be the Stark in charge of Winterfell. What if the men do not respect or listen to me. I am nothing like Father.”

The best lies are always told with considerable amounts of truth. A lesson Robb had come to learn after watching Jon avoid trouble with father as children. He had not told a lie, all he’d mention had been on his mind. They just weren’t the most important.

Benjen did not believe that to be all Robb worried about. If Ned had not warned him, perhaps he would not have suspected the boy. However, now that he’d been enlightened, it was obvious the boy was a wolf with fish colourings.

“I’ve been away from Winterfell for too long. Tell me nephew, do people often buy into your pretty words?” Benjen bluntly points out

Robb contemplated feigning ignorance, but one look at his uncle told him it would not work. So he glowered instead and said nothing. Benjen snorted and picked up a sword and examined it casually.

“You children must think us easily fooled. Do remember nephew, your father has fought through war and lived more years than you. Don’t insult him and me by singing such pretty words with a sulking glare.” Benjen scolded with warning.

Robb huffed and glared at the floor, feeling the weight of his uncle’s reprimand. For a second Robb’s image flickered and a fuzzy echo of a memory overwhelmed Benjen. He swallowed at the ache in his chest as the image faded and he saw Robb once again and not his dead older brother. Yes, truly the gods mean to taunt him and Ned with all they’d lost.

Robb refused to answer, and so they stood across from each other in tense silence. After several moments, Benjen readied his stance.

“Pick up your sword Robb.” He ordered

Robb eyed his uncle, and his blood thrummed with excitement. It’s been much too long since he’d sparred his uncle. The urge to prove himself, to dominate and show his worth was overwhelming. He did little to contain it, and audaciously smirked with confidence.

“Are you offering me a lesson uncle?”

Benjen sighed at the utter confidence Robb brimmed with. The boy was much too cocky- arrogant despite never having faced true combat. Benjen wondered if the arrogance in his nephew was a curse passed onto the eldest born Stark. Truly, how is it possible the boy could imitate his dead brother Brandon despite never having met the man?

“What I offer is wisdom Robb….”

Robb barely managed to block the sudden attack, their swords clashed with loud clangs. Soon they were caught in a tight crossing of swords, both attempting to overwhelm the other through sheer strength. Benjen took that moment to offer his own wolfish grin.

“Never allow arrogance to become you.”

And so the two fought, neither holding much back as it was more than a spar. It was also more than a lesson. It was a test between an elder and the Stark heir to determine worth. With Ned occupied, it was up to Benjen to see if this Young wolf would be a worthy Alpha for the pack. If not……..well, there was always Jon.

**[Rickon]**

He wondered the halls with Shaggy dog at his side. The two of them joyfully enjoying the sweets Robb had rewarded them with. Rickon felt proud of himself and his success in finding spies. When he’d first discovered those enemy spies (with the help of Shaggy of course) the first person he wanted to boast to was Bran. Although Arya was most definitely his favourite sibling, sometimes she was much too busy with training and being stolen by the evil Septa Mordane. Arya was a hero of course. She needed to train to get stronger and Rickon didn’t want to interfere with her training.

Besides, Rickon is a big boy now (Duh! He’s caught spies! Robb said so too) one day he’ll be just as strong as Arya. He’ll train and be just as strong as Arya and then he could protect her instead of her protecting him. As soon as Robb got rid of Lady Catelyn he’d order Jory to train him.

Anyway, the first person he wanted to boast to was Bran.

Only then did he remember that Bran was still sleeping. He wasn’t exactly sure why Bran didn’t just wake up. All he knew for sure is that some enemy spy had pushed Bran and forced him into sleeping. Arya had said that there’d been a chance that Bran would never wake up again. When Rickon had suggested they just scream in Bran’s ear till he wakes, Arya had told him it wouldn’t work. She’d been teary at the time and Rickon had cried too, scared because it had to be bad if Arya was trying not to cry.

All Rickon knew was that his mission was important. He had to catch all the spies so Arya could catch the big bad guy who forced Bran to sleep. He had to and if he didn’t and they all failed then Bran would sleep forever. Just like that pretty beauty girl in Jon’s story.

Suddenly the sweets he’d devoured didn’t taste so nice. Rickon felt sick and Shaggy seemed to sense it. He tangled his sticky fingers in the wolf’s fur and found himself scared and wanting to cry.

Bran can’t sleep forever.

He just can’t.

Rickon had so much to tell him.

A-and if Bran never wakes again, a-and he n-never………

Who’s Rickon going to get to read him stories? Arya is amazing but she doesn’t explain things proper like Bran. Jon is always busy with Robb and Theon and all the other children. Sansa is always busy with girly things. Father never has time and Rickon hates Lady Catelyn. Who is going to teach him how to climb!? No one but Bran can climb and is the best. He promised to teach him.

Rickon began to sniffle at the stupid thoughts in his head. It wasn’t till Shaggy began to growl with aggression that he snapped out of it.

“What is it Shag? Another spy?” Rickon whispered with a slight growl.

“I’m sorry!” A fearful voice cried.

“Please don’t let him bite me!”

Rickon didn’t say anything- and he sure didn’t tell Shaggy not to bite. It took Rickon a moment to remember who it was before him. When he did, he reluctantly told Shaggy not to attack. Prince Tommen sagged with relief when Shaggy stopped growling. Only to freeze up again when the wolf stepped forward with threat.

“What are you doing!?” Rickon demanded rudely unaware of how wild he appeared.

“I-I was j-just *ahem* I was just looking for the kitty.” Tommen bashfully muttered

“Go look somewhere else then! Can’t you see I’m busy!!?” Rickon snapped

Tommen winced and meekly looked to the ground. Ever since Brandon had fallen, something had changed. The little prince couldn’t exactly name what changed- he just knew something had. He and Myrcella suffered nightmares after Brandon had fallen, terrifying dreams that made them both cry. It only stopped after two nights but it was terrifying enough for both of them to never want to sleep again. Bran had yet to wake and all of the Starks were not exactly fun company to be around. His mother seemed happy that neither Myrcella nor he could play with the Stark children anymore. Though she still grew unhappy each time Joffrey sought to accompany Sansa.

“What are you doing?” Tommen braved to ask

Rickon bared his teeth with a glare, sizing the boy up. It didn’t matter that Rickon was younger, Tommen was still shaken from the horrific nightmares he’d suffered. The image of being swallowed whole by a blood red wolf still haunting his thoughts.

Rickon looked at the blond boy, and he wondered if it would really be okay to tell the little prince. He looked at Shaggy for an answer, all the black direwolf did was rumble a growl. Rickon took that to mean No. So there was only one thing he could do with the little prince. He’d have to make him stay away.

Rickon slowly moved forward, prowling much like Shaggy. The two of them crowded round Tommen, intimidating the poor little prince with their attentions. He’d seen Arya do this sometimes when she was sword fighting. When he’d asked her why she did it, she explained how it made her enemies scared. Rickon had liked prince Tommen- he wasn’t too bad to play with.

But things are different now.

Everyone is an enemy until Bran wakes up.

Tommen swallows as Rickon bares his teeth at the same time Shaggy does. The little prince doesn’t even realise he’s being backed into a corner until it’s too late. He yelps out when Shaggy snarls and snaps his jaw. It causes Tommen to fall backwards and knock his head against the wall.

“You should stay away!” Rickon snaps, doing his best imitation of Shaggy’s growl.

“W-Why?”

Rickon wonders what he should say next. He thinks of Robb and wonders what Robb would say. He fuzzily remembers the time when he was really little. A girl from Wintertown had called Jon a bastard- it was whispered but Robb had still heard it. Rickon tries to remember and channel what Robb did to the girl.

Robb had smiled a toothy wide smile with shiny eyes.

Rickon imitated his memory of the expression and Tommen whimpered as his fear heightened.

Then Robb had leaned real close and lowly recited a funny song to the girl.

_“Be warned, be warned! Are you afraid of the big bad wolf? He ate a girl so small like you and left no bones to chew. Be warned, and fear the eyes of the big bad wolf on you!”_

Rickon wasn’t sure why Robb had sung to the girl, but it made her really really scared. He isn’t sure he sang it properly but prince Tommen looked really pale. What Rickon didn’t know is that behind him Shaggy loomed threateningly. The shadows seemed to grow darker behind Rickon- as if they were reacting to his words. The black coloured direwolf seemed huge and its teeth so sharp and white. Perhaps what was most horrifying was the way the creature’s eyes seemed to stare into poor prince Tommen’s soul. Tommen found himself trembling and the horror of his nightmares seemingly came to life.

Rickon could see it in Prince Tommen’s eyes. The fear in them so bright and obvious- he wasn’t sure if he felt bad or proud. However, he’d already committed to the idea, and so he finished his performance with a sharp mean snarl.

“You should run and hide _prince_ Tommen.”

Tommen didn’t wait, he obeyed Rickon’s low snarled threat and shot off like a frightened mouse. Rickon watched him go with a giggle and pet a snarling Shaggy as he watched. He’d never been able to scare someone on his own before. It had been fun- so much fun he’d suddenly understood why Arya and Robb liked to do it so often. As much as he enjoyed scaring the youngest princeling- Rickon had work to do.

He still had spies to sniff out with Shaggy dog.

“Let’s go Shag!” He encouraged before running off.

Shaggy dog yipped and ran at his side as they sought to complete their mission. After all their mission was of extreme importance. When Bran woke up, he wanted to be able to assure his sleeping brother that the culprit had been caught and he’d been a big help in finding him. After all, anyone who dared to hurt one of **_his siblings_** deserved to suffer and be punished.

**[Cersei]**

Hot breath on the skin of her neck along with nimble fingers plunging into her heat had her moaning in ecstasy. It was wrong- forbidden but she cared little about such a fact. Instead, she encouraged the motions by bucking her hips and pressing his hand deeper.

“Jaime!” she moaned

He increased his pace and she relished in the feel of **her** twin’s loving attention. How could something that felt so right ever be wrong? Nothing was wrong with her love for her brother.

Nothing.

When they finished with their dirty little act, they were quick to clean and rid themselves of any evidence. The motion so routine, they were done within seconds. She leaned into her twin’s loving caress and sighed with both love and yearning. She yearned for the day they could openly claim each other- despite knowing it could never be so. Not while her husband and father lived.

“The children will be joining us soon to break our fast.” She mumbled softly

“Hm…”

She looked to her brother and saw how distantly his mind wandered.

She didn’t like it- hated it in fact. Cersei could always tell when Jaime was thinking of her and when he was thinking of other things. She felt a spike of something dark and cruel but wrestled it into submission before it could surface. Logically she knew that Jaime loved her and only her- but it didn’t stop her heart and mind from pondering ‘what if…..’

“What is it?” She prompts sharply

“Nothing.”

“You don’t look off into the distance with such contemplation if it is only ever nothing.”

Jaime took a few seconds to mull over how he’d respond. The silence only serving in irritating Cersei more. If he had waited any longer, she likely would have lost her temper as she’s prone to doing.

“Simply something our brother had mentioned.”

“And what did the little monster say?”

It was no secret that Cersei hated the thing that killed their mother. Something Jaime seemed to forget each time he shared a life with the ugly little troll. The little monster was no family of hers, all she needed was Jaime and their children. All she needed was Jaime and their children.

“He’d been too much into his wine again- but his words……..his words had me curious.”

When Jaime looked at her, he looked almost wary- hesitant. She didn’t like the look on his face and it had her bristling in both defense and concern.

“He’d warned me to beware the North for the wolves will be hunting.”

Cersei scoffed and didn’t bother to hide the condescending sneer in her tone.

“Nonsense blurted under the influence of wine.”

Jaime sighed with a bit of exhaustion- used to her hatred toward their brother. Yet still the contemplation remained on his face.

“Perhaps. Yet have you not noticed how strangely Winterfell has turned since the child’s fall?”

“Yes….. I suppose things have become…. Odd.”

Odd was an understatement. Among the Southern men who travelled with the Royal’s rumours already stirred. There were whispers of how the shadows seemed to dance and the cold turned biting in the morning and night. Most of all, were the hauntings of every slumbering dream in the castle. The men whispered of how Winterfell must be cursed- that the harm of the Stark child had angered a god. It didn’t help that even the local small folk of Wintertown whispered of the same things.

Cersei didn’t believe in gods- both Southern and Northern.

As such, she most certainly didn’t believe in the ghost stories among men.

However, what she did believe in were her children. When Myrcella and Tommen both burst into her chambers with wet faces full of fear- only then did she think something had changed. She didn’t think it to be caused by something silly like magic. Most likely- she reasoned it was them overhearing the whispers. Regardless, it pushed her to increase her efforts in pestering her fat husband to announce their departure- with or without Eddard Stark. 

“It matters little. Soon we will return to Kings Landing and there we will far away from all of this.” She cooed with confidence.

Her heart skipped in its cage when Jaime smirked at her before stealing another kiss from her lips. Cersei was not worried- in fact she was very much confident that soon their little visit to the North would simply be a horrid nightmare. She was the Queen- mother of the future King with her beloved twin always ready to protect her. The little Stark who’d witnessed their secret will die- it was only a matter of time.

All was well in her world.

Until it wasn’t.

She watched the little beast stroll in with a swagger that disgusted her. She could tell by the amusement on Jaime’s face, he thought it funny. At her side, Myrcella was solemnly staring into her bowl while Tommen refused to look up from his plate. Cersei hated seeing her children so stiff and frightened. They were Lannisters- PURE Lannisters, they had the hearts of lions. Yet here they sat so afraid. Cersei wanted nothing more than to order for the death of every person who dared to whisper about curses and magic. She wanted everyone who had dared to whisper such nonsense beheaded for scaring her children. Most of all she wanted away from this horrible castle.

After Tyrion had finished his performative food order, he snuck a sly smirk to where she sat. Cersei felt her lips curl in disgust at his audacity but remained silent. He didn’t spare her any more attention as he looked to Tommen with concern. She wasn’t sure how to feel about it, but she knew for certain that she would feel better if the ugly troll would not dare look at her child at all.

“Still struggling with sleep dear nephew?” he questioned

Tommen trembled at the address and only barely managed a nod.

“There is nothing to be afraid of Tommen.” Jaime softly assured

Cersei couldn’t help but feel breathless at how he looked at their child. She hated that she had to lie and hide the truth. Jaime was the father her children deserved and needed. He would have made a brilliant King- much better than the likes of Robert Baratheon.

“Is Bran going to die?” Myrcella croaked

Cersei saw how the mention of the Stark boy had caused Tommen to freeze completely. She spared a quick glance to where Jaime sat. He was already looking at her- they sought to read what the other might be thinking. In the end, Cersei found the only regret she had was not keeping her children away from the Stark children earlier. If she had- the boys fall wouldn’t feed her children’s fears. If only they could be like her sweet Joffrey whose lion heart has him unfazed about the whole ideal.

“Apparently not. The Maester says the boy may live.”

Cersei refuses to label the tension she feels as fear. Instead she settles on the term panic, because that is what she feels. She darts a look to Jaime and finds that contemplative expression returning. She doesn’t wish to linger on what he might possibly be thinking and prompts Tyrion for more information. She feels her panic increase when she finds he is already looking at her with something akin to knowing in his eyes.

“It’s no mercy letting the child linger in such pain.” She simpers but the act is hard to keep.

“Only the gods no for certain. All the rest of us can do is pray.”

“Pray!? Will praying truly help?” Myrcella pipes up- reminding the adults of her and Tommen’s presence.

Both children are incredibly focused on the adults. There is something almost wildly maniacal in their eyes. Tyrion loses the glint in eyes and it softens into something comforting. She hates that he looks at Myrcella like so- she is her daughter, and the beast is ugly.

“Do we pray to the sevens or the Northern Gods? Should we pray to both!?”

“Calm down my sweet.” Cersei attempts to soothe.

The words trigger Myrcella in a way none of them expected. The young girl jerks away from her mother with horror in her eyes and stares at them wildly. Cersei does not want to feel hurt so she focuses on the anger and lays the blame on Tyrion for bringing up the topic.

“C-can we pray to b-both?” Tommen adds with a shaky voice.

“You are both royalty. There is no reason to fear such whispered nonsense.”

Cersei sees how both children flinch and temporarily regrets speaking to them so sharply. She is simply frustrated with how obviously they show their weakness. Most of all she is hurt that Myrcella had moved away from her comfort. She can feel her twin’s eyes on her but she refuses to look to him.

“Dreams cannot hurt you. They are nothing to fear. Why is it the two of you couldn’t be more like Joffrey? At least your brother is strong.”

“He hasn’t been visited yet.” Tommen mumbles but not so low that they can’t hear.

“Who do you speak off Tommen?” Jaime addresses.

Both children shiver and tremble in unison- an action Cersei tries not to label as creepy. However, it is not Tommen who speaks but Myrcella and she is so obvious terrified.

“He’s looking for someone. We don’t know who but he came into our dreams.”

“There was a wolf- a red wolf in mine.” Tommen adds

“I only dreamt of a man. At first I thought it was Jof-……someone else, but he was taller and covered in darkness.”

The children seemed to have forgotten the adults- seemingly talking to each other only. It’s only when Jaime prompts Myrcella for more that they jump with remembrance. All three Lannister siblings are taking this nightmare a lot more seriously. Myrcella is speaking of a man and the possibility that someone may have tried to kill the princess in her sleep may be real. Cersei is rightfully frightened for her children. She stays silent and lets Jaime lead the questioning, yet she still sees Tyrion looking way too knowing.

“This man did he hurt you in your dream? Touch you in anyway?”

“No. He just sang to me.”

“What did he sing?” Tyrion prompts immediately.

“Are you so cruel to make her relive it again!?” Cersei snapped but Myrcella had already began to sing.

_“A child harmed, be warned, be warned, The storm of winter he will bring. Lock your doors and bless your beds, Be good, be true, Tell Lies, Feel Fear, Your nightmares he’ll rule.”_

Myrcella had never been much for singing- although her lessons included practice. However, Cersei had never heard her daughter sing with so much emotion before. The song sounded taunting- it seemed much too dark for her daughter. It caused Cersei to feel an ache of bone deep terror. For just a second, Cersei thought she saw a shadowed man form on the wall of her daughter’s shadow. The Queen almost jumped when Tommen then sang too. 

_“Be warned, be warned! Are you afraid of the big bad wolf? He ate a girl so small like you and left no bones to chew. Be warned, and fear the eyes of the big bad wolf on you!”_

When Tommen had stopped, both children burst into uncontrollable sobs. Cersei was quick to stand and gather them close to her bosom, assuring them frantically that they were safe. She cast a fierce glare to where the beast that killed her mother sat.

“Look at what you’ve done! Come with me children.”

She lead her children away but still heard the monster’s words to Jaime.

“Warnings and mentions of wolves……… all after the fall of a Stark. Perhaps we should consider these things. Just a suggestion.”

She didn’t hear Jaime reply and the swooping in her stomach was the heightening of her fear. She would not buy into the nonsense. Myrcella and Tommen were simply afraid after having a boy they’d personally known suffer a horrible _accident_. That was all it was. It had to be.

Cersei knew she struggled to believe her own words.

**[Bran]**

Jon had always told Bran that flying was a blessing. He’d said that just like a bird- one couldn’t help but love the wind and the places it would lead you. Bran had always been enamoured by the sky. He’d always wondered what it would be like to fly like the ravens do. It was how he first became fascinated with climbing. His want to know the feel of flying had awakened his love for climbing. Jon had always been with **him** when he climbed. It was the one thing Bran could do that none of his siblings could. The one thing he could do with Jon alone. It was amazing, a feeling Bran knew he would never tire off. Now he knew something else.

Falling felt like flying.

Those were the last thoughts he’d had after Sir Jaime had pushed him. It all happened so quickly- so suddenly that when he finally stopped falling, he didn’t even notice. Bran only knew what had happened when he woke to darkness. He had first horridly assumed he was blind and in the confusion screamed himself into a panic. All he truly remembered was screaming for Jon, Sansa, Robb, Arya, Theon and finally father. No one had answered his cries and only then did he wonder if he was dead.

“Please, please. I’m sorry- I promise I won’t tell anyone. Please just let me go back. I want to see Jon again. I won’t tell anyone about the Queen. I promise!” he sobbed and begged.

He’s not sure how long he repeatedly spoke such things. He wasn’t able to tell anything in the dark. That changed when a deep chuckle echoed around him. The fear he felt returned with a wild rush that Bran froze with terror.

“Oh? Are you afraid little wolf?” the voice laughed

“W-who…. W-who are you?”

“Me?”

Bran squinted into the darkness frightened but oh so curious and hopeful that whoever it was would help him. He prayed that whoever it was would help him get back to his siblings.

“You already know who I am.”

The man stepped closer, and the darkness receded enough that Bran could finally see. He stared- taking in and searching for anything that was familiar. The man was extremely tall- almost gaunt in appearance. He looked thin- as if he’d been starved. Most curiously was perhaps the grey colour of his skin and the way the darkness and shadows shrouded him like a cloak. There was only one person that Bran knew with such a description. He breathed the name partly out of shock and mostly out of amazement.

“Pitch Black…….you’re real!”

Pitch arched a brow at the way he was named. It had been a long time since anyone had spoken his name with such breathless awe- most of all a child. Commonly his name is whispered like a taboo or curse, repeated with terror, fear and hatred. He looked at Bran and found the child’s soul to be bright- so bright. Among the dark shadows, Bran’s spiritual form was bright like the sun.

“A soul as bright as yours is the first to ever dwell here in my domain. You should consider yourself quite special little wolf.” Pitch hummed

Bran was too in shock to feel any kind of fear. As such he was unaware of how unusual he appeared to Pitch Black. All children feared the boogie man- there had never been a true exception….. Until now.

“A-am I dead?” Bran questioned, afraid to hear the answer.

Bran still felt fear- he just wasn’t afraid of Pitch Black. He’d always loved to hear Jon’s stories about the guardians. He truly did believe in all of them, including Pitch Black. He knew that Pitch Black was a bad guy. Jon’s stories always had him as the bad guy- someone who should be feared. However, Bran had never been able to fear Pitch- not really. He couldn’t fear the boogie man- not when Jon told his story so sadly.

It’s hard to fear a bad guy who simply wanted to be seen and heard.

It wasn’t Pitch’s fault he was the guardian of darkness and fear.

“Not yet and if what I’m about to do works…. You will most definitely wake to live and walk with your siblings.” The boogie man casually replied.

“Do? You’re going to do something?”

“Hm….. It’ll only take a moment. You may look about but don’t stray too far…….. Wouldn’t want you falling into any dark pits.”

Pitch disappeared and Bran startled at the action. He wildly looked about for the spirit but found nothing. He found himself panicking again- afraid he’d been left alone once more. It was awful being alone in the dark and he didn’t want to return to it. Bran ran forward, blind without direction and cried out for Pitch to come back. The boogie man didn’t answer or come and Bran began to cry as he ran. His tears made it hard to see in the already dark place and he tripped on his feet.

He fell- again he was flying.

When he stopped, he looked around himself frantically. Only when he managed to slow his breath did he realise he was home. It was Winterfell, he was home again. The brief joy so relieving he screamed for his siblings.

“JON! SANSA! WHERE ARE YOU? ROBB? ARYA? RICKON? THEON!?”

No one answered his cries- it wasn’t till he turned the corner that he realised why. One of the help had been walking, and as Bran was running he didn’t have time to stop. She walked through him like he wasn’t even there. It was almost as if he was a ghost. At this point, Bran was truly afraid that he had died and with that desperation he ran to find his siblings. He hoped and prayed to the gods that at least one of them may be able to hear or see him.

He’d found Rickon first.

He’s not entirely sure what Rickon was doing but gave it no attention. Instead, Bran focused on shouting and screaming for Rickon to see or hear him. He thought Shaggy dog had noticed him for a second- but found the direwolf was actually looking past him. Onwards Bran continued, hoping one of his siblings might be able to see him.

He found Theon and Arya together. The two were arguing and spitting things at each other while practicing archery. Neither of them heard him scream their names. He then found Robb sparring against their uncle Benjen. Once more he had the same result as his previous attempts. He tried getting Sansa’s attention but she too didn’t see or hear him. She was too busy with the attentions of Prince Joffrey.

Bran sunk to his knees after his attempts with Sansa. It was all too much for him to handle. It hurt to have his siblings not see or hear him. It hurt to be forgotten.

“Jon!” He remembered

He hadn’t tried Jon yet.

It was his last hope, his last chance.

The first problem was that Bran couldn’t find Jon anywhere. He looked about Wintertown, searched all of the stables. Just when he was about to give up hope, a flickering shimmer of something gold caught his attention. It looked to be something made of golden wispy smoke. He then saw a black one intertwining itself around it, but not touching it. To Bran, it almost looked like the black wisp was protecting the golden one.

After meeting Pitch Black, Bran figured the gold sand could only belong to one person.

“Sandy!”

He followed the wispy rope, noticing how it grew thicker the closer he got to the end. It lead him to one of the rooms in the towers. The door was closed but the gold and black rope continued under it. Bran held his breath and desperately hoped that this time it would work. This time one of his siblings would see him. He pushed through the door and froze stiff.

It was him.

He was looking at his body.

The out of body experience was proving too much and he quickly looked away from the dead looking body. By his bedside, with his head resting on his arms was Jon. Bran slowly inched closer to his half-brother, eyes blurry with tears of relief and hope. The wisps of gold and black led to a huge cluster above Jon’s head. From the cluster of gold and black sand, Bran could make out a few images. He thought he saw his face but it changed too quickly for him to be sure.

“J-Jon? Jon it’s me! It’s Bran. I’m right here! I’m here! Look at me please! Can’t you hear me!? JON!”

Jon didn’t wake or even twitch.

Bran fell to his knees before Jon’s slumbering form and wailed. He wept and repeatedly cried for his favourite brother to hear him- to look and see him there. Only when he’d run out of tears to shed, did Bran notice something strange. The gold and black cluster had a strange substance on the edges. It glistened like polished silver and seemed to be growing- devouring the gold and black wisps. Bran peered at the cluster closer and reached out a shaky finger to touch it.

It was cold, yet fragile- like frost.

The name slipped past his lips before Bran could even think.

“Jack Frost?”

***SQUAWK***

Bran startles at the sound and trips. As such he misses the way the gold and black cluster freezes and becomes ice. He misses seeing Jon jerk up and look frantically around the room after Bran had spoken that name. He misses and does not hear how Jon cries out Bran’s name with desperate hope. Bran misses it all because he is trapped.

Before him is a black raven- its feathers so dark they shine blue. The creature stares at Bran with deep red eyes and Bran finds he cannot do anything. He is trapped- locked in a staring match with this creature. However, what is most alarming is the fact that this bird has three eyes.

The bird squawks at him- practically screaming in his face. It scares Bran to see a creature so desperate- the louder it squawks the more the sounds seem to turn into words. He is on the verge understanding just what the bird is trying to say to him when from beneath the bed black shadowed hands grab the bird. It gives one last choked squawk before it disappears into the shadows underneath the bed. When the bird is no longer in sight, Bran finds his mind is free and he can move.

He scrambles backwards, away from the bed and looks up to where Pitch is watching. Bran relaxes at the having the boogie man near and feels comfort. He doesn’t notice the fascination that forms in Pitch’s eyes at seeing a child feel safer with his presence.

“W-what was that?” Bran questions fearfully.

“A pest. Something you no longer have to worry about.”

“Why couldn’t I move? What did it do to me? I wanted to run! I tried to walk away but it was like I couldn’t feel my legs!”

Pitch only hummed, not offering an answer. The delay allowed Bran to remember Jon and he twisted to see what his brother was doing. He’d missed Jon waking up and Bran wanted to try again. He opened his mouth to call Jon’s name, but witnessed something in Jon he’d never seen before.

“Aren’t you going to call to him?” Pitch hissed lowly by Bran’s side.

It took a moment, but Bran soon answered the boogie man.

“No.”

“Oh!? Why not?”

Bran ignored the question and turned to face Pitch with his back to where Jon and his body stood. He looked up at the tall spirit guardian and mustered every ounce of courage in he had in his small body.

“You said I’m not going to die- that I’ll wake up. You said you were going to help me go back. You stopped the bird from whatever it was doing. I know your story! I know you’re not nice and shouldn’t be trusted. You’re not a guardian of children- your centre is fear. So why…….why are you helping me? What do you want?”

Bran believed in the Guardians. He believed in Pitch Black. What he couldn’t do, was trust the fear empowering spirit. Pitch Black was no friend to children, so he had to want something from Bran.

Pitch found himself liking the little wolf before him. The child was nothing like his sister- the sweet little bird that he loved to whisper to. When he’d agreed to come to this world, he had low expectations. However, so far he was being pleasantly surprised with this wolf bunch. All of them so interesting in their own little ways.

_‘Well, well, well. I must admit you have quite the little pack growing Jack Frost.’_ Pitch thought with a sharp smile.

“So you think you know me? All because of a few little stories from your _beloved_ brother. Are you so sure you can _trust_ him?”

“Jon doesn’t lie.” Bran retorted with a glare, causing Pitch to laugh.

When the boogie man stopped laughing, he wore a face of cruelty. Bran glared at him- briefly overwhelmed with anger over how he implied Jon was a liar.

“Let me show you who **_Jon_** really is.” Pitch sneered eagerly

Without warning, Pitch pushed Bran into the swirling mass of black wisps that formed behind him. Bran fell with a fearful scream- the last thing he saw was Pitch’s smirking form before darkness swallowed him entirely.

\---

Pitch waved his hand and the swirling mass disappeared along with the little wolf’s bright soul. If his domain suddenly felt empty and cold- lonely, he ignored it. He’d done what needed to be done and the little wolf would be better for it. Thinking on the little wolf, Pitch suddenly remembered the pest his shadows had snagged. A snap of his fingers had the creature appearing. It’s three eyes darting about in absolute terror. The smile Pitch wore was in no way comforting.

“Why hello little thing.”

If anything, talking to the bird made it desperately fight for freedom even more.

“Sh…. I’d calm down if I were you. It’s only going to make it easier.”

Of course the bird didn’t listen, instead it flapped harder and its three eyes spun wildly. Pitch laughed again, unable to help it. The little thing was just too entertaining. It’s a shame he’d have to kill it, he personally thought it would have been an entertaining little pet.

“It’s nothing personal. You see……. Your realm’s gods have just had a sudden change of heart.”

He watched as his shadows crept up the creature’s small body and twisted itself around its feathered neck.

“Look elsewhere for your puppet, for Bran Stark will not come looking for you.”

With those words, Pitch killed the thing and laughed as it burst into black dust. Somewhere- out there, an old man was screaming in pain among the tangled roots of a weirwood tree. The Boogie man turned his attention to the little wolf’s body and **_Jon Snow._** He sneered with taunt at Jon and spoke once more.

“Things are going to change……will you be able to weather the storm coming your way.”

Pitch grinned as he watched **_Jon_** twitch and look about the room. He noted how ice formed on the walls and floors. The winter spirits powers were growing greater each day and Pitch felt excitement for when they full returned as only then will **_Jon Snow_** be able to see him once more.

But until then…….Pitch Black had another Stark to keep company with.

_“Beware Beware, the Boogie man’s here……la la da hum ba bum ta da.”_

**[Sansa]**

He had beautiful eyes. They were the colour of green gems. The blonde of his hair only served in making them shine brighter. She took to staring into his eyes more than she bothered to listen. She found them beautiful……..much too beautiful to belong to a cowardly twit.

He was describing to her another fantasy venture of his- blathering on about how greatly he was. It hurt her ears and caused her mind to ache if she listened properly. As such, Sansa worked her face so it appeared dreamy, and spent most of her time staring at his eyes. The only part of Prince Joffrey she liked.

If it was possible, she would have liked to gouge the gorgeous gems out of their sockets. She pondered the consequences that would follow if she ever did such a thing. It wasn’t exactly a damnable law in the North- gouging out someone’s eyes. It was just a horrific and drastic punishment or form of torture. The more she pondered the thought, the more she contemplated the pros and cons of asking one of her siblings to get it for her as a name day gift.

She giggled- appropriately timed so she may seemingly be laughing at something Prince Joffrey had said. If she asked Robb, maybe she would get her wish. She doubts Arya would do it for her and Rickon barely even remembers her name. Bran would- the reminder of her sweetest little sibling hurts. The thought awakens all the dark little whispers in her head. The whispers that tell her of every fear that can be found in people’s dreams.

_‘Oh my sweet dove, feeling bored are we?’_ A familiar voice coos in her mind.

She doesn’t acknowledge it outwardly, in fact she doesn’t react at all. She’s heard this voice for so long now, that she is not surprised by it. It has become a constant in her life, a reluctant companion. A friend.

_‘You are always so sweet to me.’_

Yes, he is a friend.

Only a friend would do what he has done for her. Only a friend would know all her deepest fears and darkest thoughts and call her smart, brave and wonderful. Only a friend like the voice in her head would accept her entirely. For he is the only one who knows the True Sansa Stark of Winterfell.

His laughter resonates in her mind once more, and she tries not to smile at the sound. She wonders how she could ever have feared the voice in her head. She wonders how she could have ever begged and prayed for the gods to take him from her mind. Sansa can’t imagine what her life would have been like if she did not have this voice in her head.

_‘So you think his eyes to be pretty? Do you not wish to tell him? Tell him how lovely his eyes gleam in the light?’_

“You truly are blessed my Prince.” She speaks with a love sick smile.

She watches the uplifting tilt of Prince Joffrey’s lips and darts her gaze to his green eyes once more. He had watched her movement and is now smirking at her with charm. Sansa hears the voice laugh cruelly in her head as he knows of her disgust.

“The gods must have been smiling on your mother when she was blessed with you. Though you both share the same eyes…….. Yours are much more appealing to be locked in gaze with.”

What Sansa does not say is her wishes to scoop them out with a spoon. She doesn’t mention how his beautiful green orbs are the only things keeping her from attempting to slice his tongue. If not for his green eyes, Sansa would have taken a knife and carved from his jaw the fleshy bit that allows him to spit insults about her home.

She’d tried her best to ignore the pointed jabs and sneering he’d done towards her home. The way he had insulted the help and guards, the way he sniffed and sneered at the walls and structure. This irritating twat had done nothing but speak and Sansa was tired of it. As her irritation grew, she found herself thinking it would be better to ask Robb for the Prince Joffrey’s tongue rather than his eyes. She found herself conflicted unsure of which organ she wanted more. Prince Joffrey’s eyes for their beauty or his tongue for all the insults he’d spat. The more she thought on it, the more she leaned towards the tongue.

_‘The tongue would be better, a fun little muscle you could roast over a spit and feed back to him in chunks.’_

Sansa didn’t hide the smile that bloomed on her lips at such a comment. A smile that prompted Prince Joffrey to reach for her hand and pull it close to his chest.

“You are nothing like your siblings. How is it something as soft gentle and sweet like you came to be among a pack of wild savages.” Joffrey purred

Oh how Sansa hated Prince Joffrey.

She wished more than anything that she could set Lady on him. He thought himself protected simply because a guard dog like the Hound constantly obeyed his orders. Sansa inwardly scoffed. Prince Joffrey knew nothing about what a true canine protector is capable off. The Hound- though hideous and unforgivingly brutal was still yet a man.

Lady- though oh so obedient, was a wolf.

A Dire-wolf even.

Wolves could never be tamed, for winter is always coming.

“It was my mother your grace-“

“Please, call my Joffrey.”

“If you wish it so…..Joffrey.”

The heated stare he gave her made her skin crawl, but Sansa let her cheeks fill with colour.

“Your mother is a wise woman.”

Sansa smiles so brightly her cheeks ache.

“Yes, my mother is a strong woman.”

The lies that leave her lips are so easy to speak. No one ever hears the hollow emotion in them. No one ever knows how the words are entirely false. Only the voice in her head knows the truth. For he is the only one who knows her entirely. As Prince Joffrey begins another tangent of boasting, Sansa thinks about her mother.

Oh, how she hates the woman.

_‘My goodness, are we feeling quite vicious today.’_

He’s right, her thoughts are much darker than usual. However, she can’t help it. She knows that it is because of all the stress. Since Bran- since then all Sansa could think about was hunting the bastard who pushed her sweet _innocent_ baby brother from his climb. She wanted blood and punishment- wanted vengeance on the culprit. She wanted them to suffer for daring to clip the wings of **her** little brother.

She was not Robb, who schemed and strategized until all his pawns were in position. She was not Arya or Rickon who liked to be brazen about their plans- preferring to run into battle with war cries. Above all else- none of them were Jon, who took to grieving first rather than vengeance. Sansa endured and waited. She lurked and played pretend until the lines between act and reality were blurred.

Sansa lied to everyone including herself until all trust her so completely they turn and offer their backs for her to carve and slaughter.

Robb hated Lady Catelyn- just a tad more than Sansa did. She couldn’t understand what was taking her brother so long. She’s been waiting for him to drive the woman away since she was only 6 years. Joffrey interrupts her thoughts by stating something that she truly had not expected.

“I’m sorry what?”

Joffrey smirks, as his words were pretty shocking.

“Marry me.”

Sansa can only stare at him with shock at the proposal.

“My father has always wanted our houses to join and become one. When we leave your father will come with us- as he is now the hand of the king. If you and I were to be engaged then you too will be able to come. You would no longer have to waste away in this dead land- a beauty such as yours deserves to be praised. What better way than to be praised as my Queen?”

An all too familiar feeling is forming in her belly and Sansa trembles.

“I-I don’t know what to say your grace.”

“Say yes.”

No.

No.

She wants to say no, scream it in his face until she turns blue. Her mind is in hysterics wondering how she has found herself in this position. Why her- Why now!? Leave Winterfell! She could never, not when Bran has yet to wake, not when her siblings are all here. She wants to say no……..But-

The Prince has offered a marriage between their houses. It’s the greatest possible honour- the biggest way to show the strong alliance between House Stark and the throne. Sansa thinks of the politics that would be available for her family if she accepts the proposal. Above all, it’s a single thought that aids in her decision.

She could legitimise Jon- it wouldn’t be hard. Joffrey is easy to play- so easy to lie and prompt into certain directions. A Stark would be Queen- she could open so many things for Robb, provide him so many more pawns and people to play with. All she would have to do is say yes.

_‘Be warned little dove…….no one ever knows what waits in the dark unknown.’_ The voice warns

She’s not sure what he means, but she takes the warning to heart. So she buys time for herself to make a choice. She performs a convincing act as a daughter scared and worried about her parent’s reactions to the offer. Most of all she stresses her want to stay close to Bran for when he wakes. She sees how her excuses angers Prince Joffrey- she catches the cruelty and disgust in his eyes when she mentions her family. She barely manages to keep the act up until finally Joffrey agrees to talk to his own mother about his wishes.

The relief Sansa feels doesn’t last for long.

When they finally separate, Sansa heads off to find parchment and a quill. She scribbles a hasty note and hides it where a specific someone will find it.  By the time it is the evening meal, Sansa can feel eyes on her from two people. She keeps her gaze low and away from Prince Joffrey’s green eyes. She ignores the last one too. On her way to bid goodnight to Bran, she is stopped by Jon- who had not left Bran’s side all day.

“Sansa?”

“Hm?”

“Are you alright?”

She hesitates but can’t stop the sudden blurting of her words.

“I-……I hate this. I wish the Royal family never came to Winterfell.”

Jon looks at her and Sansa wants to run into his arms so she can feel safe. She wants to ask him on what she should do about the Prince’s offer. She wants Bran to wake up. She wants Lady Catelyn to leave her alone. She wants to be able to join her sibling’s wild nature fun and not be expected to be proper. She wants to be free and run in the mud like Arya can.

Sansa just wants to be herself with her pack.

Jon smiles at her and the expression is so warm and bright- she smiles back without thinking.

“Things are changing………..but as long as were together we’ll survive.”

Sansa breathes in deeply for clarity and meets his gaze once more.

“The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.” She recites

Jon had learnt it from their father and had weaved it into his games when they were children. Robb, Jon, Arya, Bran, Rickon, Father…..Theon….. They were all pack.

They were **HER** pack.

Sansa takes another breath and moves to sit on the other side of Bran. She stares at her sweet little brother and strokes his hair, hoping perhaps it may help wake him.

“Tell me again.” She prompts softly

“Don’t you ever tire of hearing it?”

“Never. I want to hear it again, and only you can tell it to me.”

Jon reaches for Bran’s hand and grips it tight.

“Once in a kingdom known as Arendelle, there lived a girl in a castle……”

As Jon tells the story of the Winter Ghost and Snow Queen, she finds herself listening with only half a mind. She is too distracted by the swarming of dark whispers in her head. She knows what they are- the voice had told her.

_‘You will hear their deepest darkest fears as they dream. You will rule their nightmares and see what they wish to hide in their hearts. Are you sure?’_

Sansa had said yes.

The voice had told her of how he could travel through dreams. He had told her of how he could discover people’s darkest fears no matter how they tried to hide them. SO Sansa had requested he hunt for her the culprit behind Bran’s fall. She reasoned that the real culprit would fear being named. So when the sun set and darkness was at its peak, when people fell to sleeps spell. Sansa used the voice in her head to hunt for the person who pushed Bran. Sansa doesn’t interrupt Jon’s storytelling, and this time he doesn’t forget about the ghost boy.

It’s when he is close to finishing- Sansa finally triumphs and her hunting efforts proves successful. She tries to hide the high of excitement- the low thrumming of bloodlust that pounds in her blood. She doesn’t want to tell Jon that she knows who pushed Bran. Not when her own sense of vengeance demands she seek it on her own.

“He talks to her everyday but she never hears. He tries to hold her and comfort her with touch but phases through each time. He screams her name when the night taints her dreams but she never wakes. He fights to save her from herself but always fails.”

“The Winter Ghost and the Snow Queen. A love that never was.”

Jon looks to Bran’s still form but he doesn’t move. Sansa leans forward and twines her hand in his as well for comfort.

“He will wake.”

“But will he wake whole?”

“Does it matter? He will always be Bran. We will never stop believing in him.”

When she finally leaves Jon and Bran she leaves for her room. She waits for the darkest point of night. Only when she is certain no one is awake and that darkness and night is at its peak, does she sneak out of her room. She heads to the godswood and collapses by the root of a weirwood tree and waits.

She waits and waits and waits.

Just when she thinks they will not come, she hears them.

“You came.” She breathes with relief and surprise.

“I got yer little note. What’s so important ye needed to meet in the night?”

Sansa doesn’t know of how the dark twists her image. She doesn’t know of how behind and all around her the shadows dance. She most definitely doesn’t notice the black sands that bend to her will. The person before her does, and it dawns on them why Sansa was so familiar.

Arya freaks out wondering just how she had missed the influence of Pitch Black on her new sister.

“You and I are going to kill the Queen.”

Arya’s mind suffers a whole different type of mind blown when her sister’s words register. Suddenly Pitch Black being in Westeros and somehow messing with her new sister is no longer the forefront problem for Arya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If You want more info- and a quicker response: Follow my Instagram account --> @tonyajace182
> 
> I didn't edit this at all, so maybe when I'm sober I will :)


	16. So you wanna start a war

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took awhile cause I went to Fiji! It helped with the writers block and ta da!! I'm not sure I like this chapter, and maybe I'll re-write it depending on how I want to start Jon/Jack's pov. Next chapter takes us back to Hiccup so we're going to get a nice long break from the Starks for a bit.  
> I'm keen to hear what you think of this chapter, mostly because this was more of a info dump/filler chappie. There are alot of hints in this chapter as well, and again if you analyse it all properly you'll probs figure everything out. 
> 
> Also this wasn't edited 
> 
> Tell me what you think :)  
> Enjoyx

**[Merida]**

Merida’s first thought is to attack the person before her, the second tells her this could not possibly be her sister. Then a more horrific thought comes to mind. Could Sansa be like her and Jon? Could Sansa be a reincarnation as well? Merida had never noticed anything magically strange about her sister before. Although to be fair, Merida had never looked too closely at her sister at all.

First she had failed Bran and now Sansa too.

She had thought she was doing better by her new siblings!

It stings to realise that she has not.

“Arya!?”

Right, Sansa just told her they’re going to kill the Queen. She should probably address that.

“Are ye completely insane!? Kill the Queen! THE QUEEN! This is madness-“

“Oh will you quiet your whispers!”

“Nae! You just told me we’re going to kill the _Queen!_ **YOU!**  Sansa Stark, sweet perfect little lady Sansa!”

Merida’s eyes grow wide as Sansa sneers at her words. She’d NEVER seen her sister’s face twist with such disgust and hatred. The wildly dancing shadows at her sister’s back just made her entire presence that much more _dangerous._ HAH! Sansa seemed _dangerous!_ Gods, Merida has certainly seen it all in her new life now.

“You will help me kill the queen!” Sansa hissed

“I may be wild _sister_ dearest but I’m not mad enough to commit treason against the throne!”

Worse yet, no doubt it would start a war. Merida had a brief moment to feel relieved that Sansa had come to her first and not Robb. If it had been Robb- whose current schemes are already looking to include war of some kind, tomorrow morn would greet Westeros with the beginning of bloodshed.

“You will be.”

The way Sansa had stated it so confidently instantly put Merida at unease. The tone of her sister’s voice was heavy with sadistic implication. She sounded nothing like the polite and demure sister who mastered Lady Lessons with ease. Sansa sounded more like a certain boogie man she’d once had the displeasure of being at the mercy of. Merida swallowed and took a chance in naming the guardian of fear in the face of her sister.

“Pitch?”

“What?” Sansa responded with insult on her face- and if one looked deeper, hurt.

Merida was wary of repeating Pitch Black’s name a second time. If the boogie man was truly in Westeros it would be best to not risk his summoning. The Nightmare King always enjoyed appearing at the mention of his name- or worse the singing of haunting tunes by children.

Sansa steeled herself- the hurt in her eyes much more obvious to see. The flame haired girl stiffly addressed the shorter with tension all throughout her posture.

“Arya, we may have never seen eye to eye but would you really call me such a word and-“

“What!? No I meant Pitch Black!”

Gods why were new siblings such a handful to treat with.

“What does the Nightmare King have to do with anything?!” Sansa huffed

Merida carefully eyed her sister, deeply studying her reaction. The longer she looked the more she doubted her sister was indeed a reincarnation. The absolute confusion over the mention of The Nightmare King’s name was evidence enough. It still didn’t dismiss the possibility of Pitch being in Westeros too, just that he was not reborn as her sister.

Merida shivered- the boogie man as her older sister, just the thought of it was horrifying enough.

“Never mind that. Do you really think I would risk the safety of our House if I didn’t have good reason to want her dead!?” Sansa huffed with a glare.

“I don’t know Sansa! I don’t exactly spend my time trying to figure out what you think!” Merida snapped back

Sansa groaned and glared at Merida harder- who did the same.

“Why must you always be so difficult!?”

“Why must yoou always be so stiff!?”

The utter insult on Sansa’s face was somewhat sweet to witness, but Merida didn’t have time to fully appreciate it. Sansa sighed heavily with frustration and glared at Merida with extreme irritation.

“Argh! I don’t know why I expected you to act- You know you’re acting exactly like a child!”

“Am not!”

Sansa didn’t say anything, only arched a brow and Merida grew red as she realised how childish her response sounded. Ugh! How did she let herself get tricked into falling for that!

“Ugh just shut up. You still haven’t explained why you want her dead! Or when exactly you decided the both of us are even capable of assassination!” Merida sneered before grumbling the last bit.

Sure, Merida had taken a life before and bloodied her sword and arrows. But that was in another life entirely- she’s still not confident her new body was up to her previous skill. Sansa hadn’t even trained a day in her life with a weapon!! Honestly, how were they supposed to kill the queen if they were both still so weak!?

The shadows behind Sansa grew an alarming black shade- how that was possible Merida could only assume it was magic. She was more in a shock at just how _blood thirsty_ Sansa’s expression was.

“There are only a few blonde haired individuals currently residing in Winterfell, you’re not stupid.” Sansa smirked

Merida was unaware of how her own expression shifted into a blank mask. Should anyone had happened upon the Stark sister’s they would have felt nothing but great fear. For the first time, there was something other than aggressive tension thrumming between the sisters- an indescribable energy that thrummed with **power.**  

Merida instantly knew just what Sansa was implying. She’d searched the tower Bran fell from very thoroughly- combing over every crack and corner of the place. She’d at first mistaken it for straw until Willow-wisp started to snarl at the strand. It was then Merida realised it was a blonde strand of hair. Sansa was right- there were only a few blondes in Winterfell, and only the royal family could freely roam Winterfell castle.

An accusation against the Royal family was a real serious thing. It was why Merida didn’t share her finding with the others. She didn’t want to risk being wrong. She wanted the wolves to confirm the scent on the strand belonged to the Royals- but it had been hard getting the wolves anywhere near the Queen and her brothers.

But the most pressing question Merida had, was how Sansa knew of her find.

“Bran saw something- something the Queen did not want discovered. They pushed him from his climb and hoped for his death!” Sansa snarled

Sansa was saying all the right words to wake the fiery temper Merida held. Merida had always been cursed with the poison of rage, anger and want of vengeance in her blood. Evidently it would seem she and her new sister did share something in common. Merida couldn’t find words to speak as the hatred and rage she felt grew greater and greater. Sansa must have seen that her words were taking effect as she continued to speak.

“He told them Arya! Swore to them he wouldn’t tell anyone but sir Jaime did not care. He looked to the Queen and pushed _m-_ **OUR** sweet and innocent brother.”

Merida was reliving the vision- the dream she’d had of Bran’s fall. The images haunted her constantly, watching as his small form plummeted to the ground. She’d seen the hand that pushed Bran over and over in her dreams. Now that Sansa had confirmed her suspicions, she could see it. She could see how Bran had fallen. She could see how Jaime Lannister pushed Bran.

“Help me Arya. Together- let us avenge our brother.” Sansa softly pleaded.

It worked and Merida gave in to the rage she felt. She was too blinded by her anger that she missed the triumphant smirk on Sansa’s lips.

“What have you planned sister?” Merida grinned with bloodthirst in her voice.

Sansa smiled- such a pretty and sweet thing. Merida felt like laughing at the expression her flame haired sister wore. Now that she’d seen the truth behind Sansa’s mask, she wonders how she’d never seen it before.

All of her siblings were truly the bloodthirsty wolves of the North.

**[Theon]**

Something dark and ominous was in the works. He could feel it in his bones and his gut screamed in warning. As he broke fast with the rest of the Starks, he kept a narrowed gaze on all the Stark children. Robb was looking like the gracious and respectable Stark heir Theon knew he wasn’t. Rickon was doing his usual routine of causing chaos for Lady Catelyn. At least that was normal. Lord Stark was absent- busy tending to the fat king no doubt. None of the Royals were present- the Queen apparently falling sick and wanting her children near. A blessing as Theon wouldn’t have been able to stomach another meal with the sick fuck of a Prince Joffrey.

As his gaze found its way to the Stark sister’s, the lurching in his gut made him pause.

Arya was much too quiet- a rare fact as the little she wolf was always barking her mouth about. Instantly, he knew something was afoot. It wasn’t until he looked over to where Sansa sat that his gut all but screamed at him. Oh yes- Theon could see it, the red haired girl wasn’t fooling him. Not a bit. Theon saw beyond those honeyed words and sweet smiles. Sansa Stark was up to something and Theon was going to find out just what the hell it was.

A scheming Robb was one thing- but Sansa Stark scheming was worst.

At least with Robb, Theon was sure Jon and he could talk the boy out of it. That was not the case with Sansa. As for one, Jon would absolutely not believe for a second that Sansa was planning anything bad. Two- between Robb and Sansa, the red haired girl’s plans were more likely to involve blood and succeed. Robb at least gave people a chance to plead their case- if Sansa was feeling particularly vicious she’d somehow twist her victim’s minds until they are pleading her for punishment.

Theon would know- he’s seen her do it plenty times before.

He waited until the flame haired Stark was done with her meal. He made extra sure to look as casual as possible before he followed after her. He knew her routes and was quick to take the short cuts to intercept her. He waited and made sure no one was near to witness- then accosted the red haired Stark and pulled her somewhere more private.

Sansa fought his hold- only fighting harder when she realised it was Theon holding her. The shadows of the corner he’d chosen was practically pitch black in darkness. Yet, Theon didn’t care much about it- shadows and the night always seemed to bend to Sansa’s will. Theon had witness too many strange and unexplainable things whilst staying in Winterfell. The dark did not scare him.

When he let her go, Sansa didn’t waste time in spitting at his feet.

“Forgive me _Greyjoy_ if my manner is by all means unpleasant. I hadn’t expected to be _KIDNAPPED_ by a Kraken.”

Theon sneered, doing his best to ignore the sting of her words. She always knew just what to say to pierce the softer sides of his defences. Unfortunately for her, Theon wasn’t going to play to her tune. He’d long learnt how to deal with the **real** Sansa Stark.

“Enough with the lies Stark. Just what are you hiding?” Theon sneered

Sansa reared back with wide eyes of confusion and just a hint of fear at Theon’s aggression. She pulled her hands close to her chest in a somewhat defensive stance. If anyone were to see them, they would assume Theon was violating an unwilling Sansa.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” she denied

 Theon laughed- unable to help the sharp sound of his laughter. These fucking Starks always thinking they had everyone fooled. Not Theon- oh no, Theon _knew_ the truth about the Stark children. He wasn’t fooled for a second. He saw the **real** them, all of them. He loomed closer- showing just how little he cared or feared Sansa’s little game.

“Robb making obvious plans for war, Arya running about with those damned wolves with Rickon listening at every corner for whispered information. And you…”

Theon lowered his voice and curled his lips up in mockery at the Stark beneath him.

“Never straying too far from Prince Joffrey and batting your eyes like a desperate maiden. It must have been driving you mad listening to the little bastard utter shit every time he opened his mouth. How did you manage the act hmm?”

Theon waited and witnessing the effect of his words made him grin. Those Tully blue eyes lost the false fear and confusion. They turned dark and piercing- one would truly believe the ice of the North was used to shape them. She sneered at him and Theon enjoyed seeing the twist of disgust on her lips. This was the real Sansa and Theon felt a small bit of pride in knowing only he knew how to get her to drop her act.

The grin on his lips disappeared as he felt something sharp pressing against his belly. Looking down he was irritated to find Sansa held a knife against him. No doubt she’d anticipated him cornering her and secreted the thing after breaking her fast. Bloody dresses and their easily concealable sleeves.

“Don’t interfere Theon- or I swear I’ll be sure to remind you why Krakens never dare try for power beyond the seas.”

“And I should feel threatened by a fish?” Theon snapped knowing it would anger her.

Sansa smiled at him sharply and there was no denying she was a wolf. He heard the low rumbling snarl of a wolf and stiffened having not noticed Sansa’s direwolf. Just like her mistress, the usually tame creature was looking savage and ready for blood.  Theon didn’t back away but he did admit defeat.

“Fine. You’ve proven you’re point. Call your bloody beast off Sansa.”

Sansa smirked and Theon hated how the action only enhanced her pretty features. The damned girl was going to grow up fucking dangerous. Theon could only hope he would be there to witness her games with whoever the poor fool she’s married off to.

“Good girl Lady.” Sansa cooed as the blasted wolf came to her side.

Now that the tension between them had dwindled, Theon returned to his questioning. 

“Truly do you take me for a fool!?”

“I take you for a too curious pain in my side Theon. Stay out of my business!”

“I may not know what you plan, but I know it is bound to be dangerous. Don’t think I forgot what you’d almost done to Ros!”

Sansa pouted at the mention of the red haired whore. Theon had always thought Robb to be the most possessive and jealous of the Stark siblings. He’d been proven wrong after he’d dragged Jon and Robb to the pleasure house to truly become men. Not only had Jon refused- he’d also lectured both Robb and Theon on the responsibilities of enjoying such pleasures.

_“I’m not telling you both to remain celibate, Theon. I’m simply warning you not to be foolish with the act if you have no intentions of acknowledging any child that’s made from your seed.”_

Safe to say Robb and Theon cut back on their reckless pleasure taking. Neither of them could forget the rather cold and frosty expression Jon had worn when lecturing them. Of course Theon’s lack of fucking became a huge topic among the women of Winterfell. Which became twisted by the constant whispers into something completely different. When the whispers had reached Sansa’s ears, it had become something about Ros trying to lure and take advantage of Jon.

If Theon hadn’t been visiting the place at the time and stopped her, who knows what Sansa would have done to the girl.

“If I tell you will you leave me alone!?” Sansa hissed

“Maybe, it depends on whether Jon needs to know or not.”

“Snitch!” Sansa snapped

Theon just shrugged not caring about her accusation. He didn’t care- he’d tell Jon if need be, because Sansa may be dangerous. But none of them scare him as much as Jon. Snow could be fucking terrifying- and Theon’s never even seen him pissed before.

“Prince Joffrey asked for my hand in marriage.”

Theon froze completely at her words. He stared at her- wishing just a bit that he’d heard wrong. When Sansa didn’t continue, Theon’s stomach dropped with dread as he realised she was completely serious.

“I’ve not given my agreement but he assured me he was going to inform the Queen and King as soon as possible. If they too agree then it’s only a matter of time before Father and Mother announce it to everyone.”

“You can’t marry that little shit!” Theon blurted

Sansa glared at him and at her feet so did Lady. Theon knew that this was likely just a distraction- a slip of the truth she was revealing so he would not discover her true plans. However, the idea of Sansa married to Joffrey was too horrid a thought.

“I want this Theon.” Sansa softly assured

He was listening but despite her words, Theon could hear the dark undertones they were spoken with.

“I’ve never wanted anything more than this.” Sansa repeated with a sweet smile

Theon shivered and though he wanted to protest- at the end of the day he trusted the Starks. Despite the madness, and the insane amount of stress they put him through. Theon would die for the Starks if they needed him too. Though many believed Sansa to be more of a Tully than a wolf. She was a Stark and so reluctantly, Theon swallowed the words he wished to shout.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.” Theon sneered

But from the way Sansa smirked at him- and what is up with these Stark’s smirking at him!?- He’s sure she heard the concern he tried to hide.

“Don’t worry about me. You just make sure you keep quiet and don’t say a word about this to Robb and Jon. Gods forbid Robb gets it in his head to interfere before the engagement is announced.”

She turned and left him- taking with her the darkness of the shadows. Theon only watched as she walked away, her posture straight and proper like an innocent little Lady. At her side was her dire-wolf, padding along like a tame little pup. No one would ever suspect the entire persona to be an act.

Theon took a few moments to sort through the shock of what he’d just learned. As such he wasn’t expecting any surprises when he too turned to leave. He froze completely- the swooping sensation of shock and surprise at being caught off guard overwhelming him.

“I’m going to give you to the count of five _Greyjoy._ What the hell are you doing in dark corners with my sister!?”

Arya Stark adjusted the angle of her bow and arrow, shifting her target from his chest to his lower regions. She glared at him and Theon had a second to marvel at how such an expression made it obvious the Stark sisters were indeed related. When Arya’s lips curled up with a wild grin, Theon swallowed because the girl really looked like a wolf.

“Start talking Greyjoy or mini Theon gets an arrow through its head.”

God damn fucking Starks!

**[Catelyn]**

“And the Queen approved!?” Ned repeated with doubt.

She tried to hide her irritation at being doubted. From the way her lord husband narrowed his eyes with warning she didn’t hide it enough. Since he’d banished her after the welcoming feast- things have only gotten worst between them. She’d not been able to be properly alone with her children since. Ned had her watched- always. What was worst is that she couldn’t even protest the _bastard_ boy’s presence by Bran’s side.

Bran- her precious little boy.

“Queen Cersei approached me herself and inquired my opinion on the matter.”

“So she approved.” Ned repeated

“Do you doubt me _husband?_ ” She stiffly countered

She tried not to grimace with caution as she watched him slowly walk around the table. She most certainly tried to ignore the voice in her head that likened him to a prowling wolf.

“Forgive me Cat, I’m simply worried if this would be the best course of action for _my_ children.”

Catelyn reared back as if she’d been physically struck. The cold way in which Ned regarded her hurt- it hurt to have him look at her as if she was an enemy. No longer able to hide the overwhelming emotions she felt, she spoke.

“Is this how you will treat me now? Did all those years mean nothing to you? They are my children too Ned!”

“A mother who truly loved her children would never dare to strike against them due to petty hatred of a father’s sins!” Ned retorted

The quiet wolf he may be, but Ned Stark knew just what words to use to hurt when he wanted.

Of course he would call her out on her hatred and mistreatment of his bastard.

“Did you expect me to love the boy? The Bastard son you return with, who shares the same age as our eldest?” She hisses

“Love him? No. I only expected you to care for an innocent babe who had no choice in his existence. Did you think me blind of how you had been glad he’d been near death as a child- suffering from sickness!?”

Catelyn trembled at the rage in his tone. She refused to show him how deeply the memories of that time affected her. She especially hated that he had forced her to remember the promises she had made and broken to the gods those nights as well.

“Then tell me her name! Tell me the name of the woman so enticing she’d successfully seduced _honourable_ Eddard Stark to her bed!” Catelyn sneered with demand

Ned said nothing at her demand- but perhaps that was worst. As his lack of words allowed her to see the pure grief and regret in his eyes. The ache in her heart grew worst because still after all these years. He still would not tell her the name of the maiden he loved and grieved so fiercely for. The silence that built between them was suffocating and Catelyn simply felt empty and cold.

“We have strayed from the topic. I will only agree if Sansa herself comes to me and tells me it is her wish to marry Prince Joffrey.”

“The cruelty of the Quiet Wolf truly knows no limits.” Catelyn whispered

Ned didn’t flinch at all at her words, and she left the room quickly. She did not stop for anyone- her mind set on the one place she knew the tears she shed would not be questioned. As she burst into the room that held her injured son- Catelyn finally let her tears fall. She was in luck as the bastard or any of her other children were absent. By Bran’s bedside, Lady Catelyn wept and cried out the pain in her heart.

“Is this to be my punishment? Do the sevens and gods of the north condemn me to such pain?” She sobbed lowly.

Family. Duty. Honour.

How is it that she has failed all three of her House words?

She has never felt more alone- the last time she’d wept so much had been due to the death of Brandon Stark. She found her mind drifting and wondered- if Brandon had lived to see their wedding day- would she be suffering so much.

Catelyn’s mind drifted and she imagined the life she would have lived as the wife of Brandon Stark. There was a clattering sound and she wrenched her mind away from such fantasies.

“Lady Catelyn, forgive me for disturbing you.” Maester Luwin apologized.

“No, forgive me for my chaotic state.” She refuted, hastily wiping the tears from her cheeks.

“There is no forgiveness needed when a mother cries for her injured child. It warms me to see how greatly missed and loved the young lord is.”

Catelyn gave a weak smile at the words, but didn’t correct his assumptions. She reached out and carded her fingers through Bran’s hair.

“Be honest with me Maester, will he wake whole?”

“The young lord fell from quite a height. Though I pray he will- I cannot guarantee such a feat. It is a miracle he still breathes after such a long fall. Had he’d not fallen on such soft things, I believe the chances would have been lower for his recovery. The only risk I can warn you of is that he may not walk when he wakes.”

Catelyn inhaled sharply with horror at such news, and cradled Bran’s hand in hers.

“Oh Bran, my darling boy. Please I beg of the sevens and the old gods- let my son walk when he wakes.”

As the Maester finishes the last of his inspection, Catelyn makes a request for him to send word for Sansa to meet with her. She does not have to wait long as soon after, Sansa is knocking and greeting her.

“You wished to speak with me mother?”

“Come sit with me, Sansa.” She beckons

As Sansa settles beside her, Catelyn takes the time to marvel at her most obedient child. She is quite tall for her age- and the red of her flame bright hair so beautiful. Catelyn can’t help but be proud of how strongly the Tully blood flows through her eldest born daughter. Sansa is not like her siblings, she knows her values. Family, Duty and Honour. Catelyn is so relieved to find that at least one of her trueborn children follows her House words.

“The Queen has spoken to me of Prince Joffrey’s offer for your hand.”

The wide eyes Sansa turns on her is filled with surprise but also hope. Catelyn smiles at the sight- glad to see the warm bright light in those Tully blue eyes.  There is no coldness in Sansa’s eyes, just warmth and love. Catelyn is relieved to know these eyes hold none of the cold winter frost that comes from the Stark blood in her daughter.

A small part of Catelyn is proud that at least for one child- the fish is stronger than the wolf.

“Be honest with me Sansa- do you truly wish to marry the prince?”

“Joffrey is so nice to me mother. The green of his eyes are so bright…….. I truly believe he will be good to me. I never thought I’d marry a Prince- though I did dream of it I never thought it’d come to be true, “Sansa shares with a shy smile.

Catelyn smiles but it is tight. She is happy for her daughter, but she is worried for she knows Kings Landing is filled with rats, liars and thieves. No one can be trusted in the capitol- especially if they are to deal with the court.

“You will have to leave Winterfell…… you will have to leave me.” Catelyn adds softly

Sansa looks down at that but then she reaches for Catelyn’s hand and holds it gently.

“I’ll miss you but….. Joffrey wants me to be his Queen. I will miss you but I’ve never wanted anything more in my life than being his Queen. Please Mother, help me convince father to say yes.”

Catelyn smiles at Sansa and pulls her into a tight embrace.

“I’m so proud of you Sansa, know that always.” She whispers.

“I know mother.”

Catelyn does not see the way Sansa’s Tully blue eyes darken with ice or the smirk that curls on her lips. If Bran were awake only he would witness the expression. But he sleeps on, and so no one sees the deception the eldest Stark daughter wears. Together, Sansa and Catelyn go before Ned.

“Are you sure you want this Sansa?” Ned repeats, not looking at Catelyn’s smug expression.

“The choice is yours and only yours to make.”

Sansa smiles sweetly and brightly at her father- the pure excitement on her face hard to ignore.

“Yes! I promise you father, I’ve never wanted anything more before in my life.”

How can Ned say no to such hopeful eyes?

“I will make the announcement at the feast tonight then.” Ned dejectedly agrees

Sansa embraces her father so tightly with excitement and pure happiness, Catelyn is sure she doesn’t notice the tension between them. Ned coldly regards her and Catelyn doesn’t falter under his stare. He cannot accuse her of influencing Sansa’s choice when she so obviously wanted the engagement herself.

When the feast commences, Ned and King Robert look somewhat solemn. A fact, Catelyn doesn’t understand because- should the King not be glad? Finally House Baratheon and House Stark will be united through marriage. Queen Cersei is present but she looks incredibly worn. There are dark bags beneath her eyes and Catelyn has not seen her reach for her food at all. The Queen has only consumed the wine in her goblet with one hand- whilst the other is twisted in a tight grip around Prince Tommen’s wrist.

When Ned calls for all to hear his words, Catelyn sees how Sansa beams at Prince Joffrey’s side. The older Prince smirks at the audience and makes a show of placing his hand upon Sansa’s.

“I am pleased to announce the engagement of my daughter Sansa and Prince Joffrey!”

Though his words are praising his tone sounds reluctant and his expression stiff. If anyone dared to look closely they would see how Ned Stark lies about his words. King Robert does not look as overjoyed as many would have assumed. Instead the King is closely watching the newly engaged couple with a stern eye. Most of all, the king looks amused and doubtful- as if he is expecting to be entertained.

King Robert then announces the Royal family’s departure and demands a celebratory feast. Queen Cersei is the first to toast and she chugs at her wine like a thirsty beggar before motioning for a refill. Sansa is bright and accepting of the constant congratulations- she grows pink when Prince Joffrey whispers sweet things into her ears.

Throughout it all, Catelyn keeps her gaze steady on the table that seats her children, the Greyjoy and Ned’s **_bastard_** son. She witnesses the surprise on Robb’s face that melts into disbelief. She watches how Arya scoffs and glares- ignoring the whole process and feeds Rickon. She sees how Theon sneers at Prince Joffrey before turning back to his cups.

But the true expression Catelyn relishes in witnessing is Jon’s.

She savours the way his smile slips into a tight grimace before it darkens into a heavy frown. She enjoys how his brows furrow and his eyes widen with shock. She stares until he feels the intensity of her gaze and turns to look. When their eyes meet, Catelyn does not let her pleasant mask slip- but instead lets her eyes gleam with victory.

At last, she can finally keep the _bastard boy_ away from her most precious child.

It’s too late for Catelyn to separate her other children from the bastard. They are too friendly- too deeply bonded with the boy. She’d only been able to save Sansa, and after years of his persistence, Jon Snow would no longer have access to her daughter.

Catelyn savours her victory for the battle is hers.

**[Robert]**

Despite the loud festive mood, Robert was distracted. At his side Ned was much the same. The two old friends both subtly eyeing their engaged children with suspicious eyes. The whole event happening too easily for both their likings. Since Ned had opened his eyes to the truth of his children, Robert had been keeping a careful eye on the lot. It took a while for him to see it, but Ned was right.

Ned’s children were wilder than Brandon and Lyanna, worst even- for they had subtly on their side. They were the Quiet wolf’s children, and Robert had seen how dangerous a Quiet wolf can be when he hunts.

And Ned had seven children to carry the blood thirst in the Stark blood.

“Bloody hells Ned, you should have stayed celibate.” Robert muttered as he faked a drink from his goblet.

Robert hadn’t been drunk since the opening feast. Something he’d been sure to keep secret from all but Ned. He didn’t wish for anyone knowing the truth. Robert in his sobriety was noticing many things he had not seen before. A dangerous thing as the last time Robert had been this sober- he’d won a war and been crowned King.

“After all those years in our youth wasted at the pleasure house? You share fault in this Robert.” Ned snorted with a disbelieving laugh.

Robert didn’t hold back the belly aching laugh he felt. As he roared in laughter, he noticed the way his wife flinched at the sound and drank deeper from her cups. Cersei’s face was already a flushed shade of red- she’d long passed her limits. As he let his laughter fade, Robert also noticed how closely Jaime Lannister whispered into his wife’s ears. Without the wine to weaken his mind- Robert was noticing the absurd lack of space between the Lannister siblings.

He resolved to voice his suspicions to Ned later when they visited the crypts once more.

As he tipped his wine into the bucket beneath the table, he motioned for a refill. Beside him Ned let out a deep laugh and Robert grinned widely. So far, his trip to Winterfell has been the best damn thing he’s done in years. It’d been too long since he’d felt the thrill of having Ned by his side. Though he had no use for his hammer- hunting with a Stark was always a rush. Robert never had a care for a war of mind tricks and pretty words. He preferred action and a more hands on approach.

When Benjen had approached him and insisted on a joined effort in minding Ned. He’d laughed and mocked the man. Ned was a big boy and made of stronger stuff. The schemes and mischief of his children was no true problem. Benjen had not been happy and insisted on Robert being supportive of Ned. So to appease the watchman, Robert agreed. Nothing seemed all too different or interesting.

But everything changed when Bran Stark fell from his climb.

Strange dreams whispered among the small folk- the threat of night and the biting cold. Robert had never felt the cold of the North so fiercely until that day. Then, Arya Stark had insisted that Bran had been pushed. Though he had been calm and collected before his children. Only Benjen and Robert had seen the Quiet Wolf rage. Only then did Robert realise how great a toll the stress over his children was taking on his friend.

_“My boy- they dare hurt my boy!” Ned howled with rage._

_He could do nothing but watch as Ned raged and destroyed whatever his hands could reach for. Benjen was glaring at him- as if he were demanding Robert say something to calm the wolf. Truly Ned must be Roberts’s brother for in this moment Robert’s house words best described the man. He was not good with words- and in the past it was always Ned who would calm him from his rage. He supposed it was only fair, he do the same._

_Robert shared the story of the child Cersei birthed him with hair of black and eyes of blue._

_As he spoke Ned seemed to calm, until he slumped with exhaustion. Robert finished his tale quickly not wanting to awake the emotions that came with the tale of his dead trueborn child. The only child he had ever lost to the stranger._

_“I promise you Ned, should your daughter’s claims prove true. You will have my support to do whatever you wish- so be it!” Robert vowed._

_“You are not alone brother.” Benjen comforted_

Robert intended to see his promise kept.

Benjen volunteered to sort out Ned’s heir, as all three of them agreed that he was the only one seemingly up to no good. Personally, Robert didn’t see it, but when both Ned and Benjen insist, who is he to protest. As a King with such a selfish reputation- keeping up the act was rather easy. Robert didn’t expect to discover anything strange- just keep Ned Company and offer a jape or two to calm the wolf. So when he begins to notice how often Cersei and Jaime disappear without notice. When he begins to ponder the fuzzy memories of his last interactions with Jon Arryn. When he wonders on why he can find nothing of himself in his three children compared to his bastards and dead son.

Well……… Robert did not win a war simply because he had a hammer and his fury.

“I’m surprised the Queen would agree to such a union.” Ned muses

“Hah! The bloody harpy has been in a mood. Terrible sleep- waking with loud screeching screams. Have you not heard the whispers?” Robert grumbles

“Aye, I have. Jon has always had a talent for stories, but to the point of haunting nightmares? That’s a first.”

They both look over to where Ned’s bastard sits among his siblings. The group are closely speaking to each other- and from where their seated, it looks to be an argument. No doubt it’s about the engagement. Then Robert sneaks a look at Ned, who is watching his wife and children with sharp eyes.

“What? What is it? What now?” he prompts

“You said it yourself that girl of yours begged you to approve of the union. Honestly Ned, you can’t possibly suspect your children of planning the thing. Bloody Joffrey practically whinged my ears off with his prissy demands. How that boy can possibly be mine……”

Ned didn’t say anything, just fussed with his beard in thought. Robert scoffed and shook his head. He acknowledged Ned’s kids to be wild- but to plan such a thing? Perhaps they are merely overestimating the scheming bunch.

“The union? No. My daughters have never seen eye to eye to Robert.”

Robert looked at the dark haired Arya Stark. Watching how she laughed and scowled, acting as unladylike as possible. He then looked at Sansa Stark who smiled and cooed over her betrothed with smitten eyes. Two incredibly different girls- so different as the moon and the sun. He found his eyes drawn to his eldest trueborn spawn and scoffed with disgust. How could such a cowardly little shit have come from his seed? He watched Joffrey smirk and flatter Sansa Stark and shook his head.

“That boy has no idea…….”

Robert was not exactly happy about the engagement, truth be told. As to why, well there was only one reason and one reason alone. Though a perfectly sweet little lady, Robert had now had his eyes open to the truth. He no longer had wine to cloud his senses and his war mind instincts told him clearly. Do not be deceived.

Sansa Stark was going to devour the blonde little twit whole……and the boy had no idea.

But the engagement meant leaving Winterfell for Kings landing. It meant being King once again- something he dreaded. If dragging along Ned’s daughters brought his best friend with him, Robert was going to do it.  He had too many revelations on this trip and perhaps it’s time he be a proper King. Perhaps he could honour his foster father’s memory by becoming the man he’d always wanted Robert to be.

This time when Robert went to drink from his goblet, he did not pretend. The sweet and bitter taste of wine on his lips made his blood sing. At least this time, Ned will be there to suffer with him.

Who knows, perhaps having Starks in the South will bring along their Northern entertainment.

**[Bran]**

This time when he woke, it was slow. He first regained sensation in his legs before he could feel the cold of the ground once more. He felt weak and disorientated as if he was waking from an incredibly long sleep. It was only then he heard the frantic whisper of others above him. He tried to remember what he had been doing before now.

Slowly his memories returned- falling, crying- JON! SANSA! - A bird - PITCH BLACK!

Bran sat up with wide eyes and fear in his heart. Pitch had pushed him and- and.

“He’s awake!” a deep voice exclaimed with relief

“Oh thank Manny!”

“Back it up, give him some space!”

Bran looked about wildly and what he saw just made him panic even more. Before him were four incredibly weird looking people? One was a large round man with a red coat and tattoos on his arms. Bran found himself distracted with the white beard- but then his eyes were snagged by something else. Something not quite human. This thing was flying and as far as he could tell it was a girl. She looked like a bird, and she spoke fast- too fast as Bran couldn’t understand much of what she was saying.

“Give the boy some space Tooth. You’re scarring the little guy!”

Bran yelped and scrambled backwards away from the HUGE rabbit thing in front of him. He was certain the thing might eat him, despite logic telling him that bunny’s like carrots and don’t eat humans.

“Settle down little guy. I promise we won’t hurt you.”

“Argh! JON! JON! Please!!!” Bran cried out in fright

“Step aside, let me try.” The large man insisted.

Bran struggled to breathe due to the fear he felt. He had too many questions and everything was just so unfamiliar and different. He’d never felt so lost and alone before. He’d never been without any of his siblings- his pack. The reminder that he was without his pack caused the tears in his eyes to finally fall. He could hear the large man saying things in attempt to comfort. He didn’t care to hear them, because the man was not Jon, or Sansa, or Robb or even Arya or Theon. The large man was a stranger- someone Bran didn’t know.

“Perhaps you would like to try Sandy?” The large man dejectedly suggested.

Bran looked up from his arms and wiped at his face.

Sandy? Did he mean Sandy as in….? Bran saw a short pudgy man step forward. He had to squint a bit as the man was a bright glowing gold colour. He shimmered and sparkled like tiny gold jewels in the sun. Bran found his breathing ease and his eyes turned wide with wonder and awe. When the gold man smiled widely with sympathy in his eyes, Bran felt warmth in his chest blossom. Then, rather than speak- golden sand began to dance above the man’s head making quick shapes and images. Bran gasped at the sight as his mind finally realised just who he was with.

“Y-you’re the Sandman!?”

When Sandy nodded and silently cheered, Bran looked to the others in the room. Their names came to mind instantly then and he named them with shock in his voice.

“Tooth! The Tooth fairy! Guardian of Memories! Saint Nick a-and Bunnymund- the Easter bunny! Guardians of wonder and hope! Y-you’re real!!”

“Blimey, the little biter knows us!” Bunny gestured

“Of COURSE WE ARE REAL! It is always good to know another child believes, no?” Nick grinned

“Oh sweetie. It’s not that were not glad to have you, but how are you here?” Tooth fussed with concern.

Bran was too busy marvelling at the proof before him. Jon’s stories- the spirit guardians of children, all of it real and standing right in front of him. How? How could Jon have known about them? Sure, Bran believed in them with all his heart but that was mostly because he believed in Jon. Tooth, Nick and Bunny had started to get into a heated discussion concerning Bran. As such they didn’t notice how Bran’s expression scrunched as his eyes searched the room. They didn’t notice how he counted and found that one guardian was seemingly missing.

Sandy noticed- but what could he possibly say?

“Wait! Wait! Please, excuse me but- Why are there only four of you? Jon said- in Jon’s stories there were five?”

Bran watched cautiously as his question caused Bunny to flinch and turn away. Saint Nick bowed his head with heavy regret while Tooth choked on a gasp of hurt. Only Sandy seemed to brave looking at the curious child. Bran felt worry at seeing the guardian’s reactions and could only hope nothing bad happened to his favourite guardian. Jack Frost was always his favourite guardian. Where was he? When could Bran meet him?

“Jack- Jack Frost has not been with us for some time, little one.” Saint Nick reluctantly shared.

“But he’s a guardian! The Guardian of fun- Jon’s stories. Jon said-“

“Oh Jack!” Tooth brokenly whispered as she tried to stop from getting too emotional.

Sandy had also bowed his head and shook it sadly when Bran looked at him. A horrible understanding was coming to light in Bran’s mind. Though the guardian’s weren’t saying it- he was beginning to understand that something terrible had happened to the winter spirit.

Spirit’s couldn’t die though, right?

Bunny was the first to give in to his emotions. He angrily spoke up- harsh with his tone and threatening with his glare of irritation. Bran stepped back in wary caution, feeling a bit safer when Sandy stood protectively in front of him.

“Relax Sandy, I just got a couple of questions for the kid. Just who is this Jon fella you keep crying for?”

“J-Jon’s my brother. He told us about you- all of you!”

Bran always loved to brag about Jon, and it showed. He told the guardians all about his siblings- mostly Jon though. The more Bran talked the more the guardian’s began to share mixed looks with each other. When Bran finally finished telling them about his siblings and mentioned how he got here- Nick finally spoke.

“Pitch! Pitch Black brought you here!?” the jolly man repeated for confirmation.

When Bran nodded- the guardians burst into loud shouting.

“A-am I d-dead? Did I die? Is that why I’m here?” Bran wondered hesitantly.

Saint Nick was the first to comfort him.

“Oh No! No child, you are not dead- nor is your presence a problem.”

“Not a Problem!? Wake up and smell the cookie crumbs Nick! You know very well what this means! There ain’t no way this is some coincidence. Pitch Black popping up after his sudden disappearance and the-“

Bunny swallows and looks away from Bran’s wide eyes. He can’t look at the child- not when he and the others are slowly beginning to understand what Bran’s presence means. Not when he now knows just what happened to the Winter Spirit he privately called friend. Sandy leads the conversation then- the images on his head flashing by so quickly Bran doesn’t make out any of it. But the Guardian’s do, and that’s all that matters.

“Tell the kid what he needs to know- and send him back. Just don’t expect me to stick around and hear you tell him. I got to get back to my eggs anyway.” Bunny grumbles before tapping his furry foot and falling through the hole that appears.

After Bunny leaves, Tooth begins to cry and Bran feels lost and helpless.

“What did I do? What did he mean?”

Saint Nick takes a while to respond as he hugs a crying Tooth in comfort. Bran feels himself being guided by wisps of golden sand to sit. Sandy tries to reassure him with a warm smile, but it doesn’t hide the sadness in the dream spirit’s eyes. When Nick finally speaks, he does so with a heavy tone of regret.

“You are a very special child Bran. Do you want to know why?”

Tooth disappears and Bran can only shake his head in wonder. Nick manages a smile, before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small wooden toy figure. He hands it to Bran and watches as the child marvels at the toy. The wooden toy is simple- shaped like a young boy with no shoes and painted white hair. The boy carries a wooden stick and Bran is excited as he remembers Jon owning a special stick that looked much the same.

“This is Jack Frost isn’t it!? Jon has a stick just like this you know……….Why? Why are you giving this to me?”

Tooth returned and she held two cylinder cases- one gold and the other a winter blue. Nick smiles at Bran but the boy can see the sorrow the jolly man hides. He clutches the wooden toy a little tighter and looks at the guardians around him.

“Do you remember what Pitch said to you before he sent you here?” Tooth softly sniffles

Bran hesitates but nods, and eventually repeats the boogie man’s words.

“He said- He said he was going to show me who Jon really is.”

“Do you know what these are?” Tooth continued, motioning to the two cylinders.

Bran nodded as he remembered Jon’s description of how a child’s teeth holds a lot of memories. He then notices that on the two cylinders is the face of two boys. On the gold one- it looks like a brown haired boy, with a face similar to the Jack Frost wooden figure in his hand. On the winter blue however the face flickered between one Bran recognised easily as Jon’s and another that looked very identical to the wooden figure in his hands.

But why would……..

“Can you be a brave boy for me Bran? Can you be brave and promise me something?” Tooth asked softly.

Bran looked at the Tooth Fairy and was mesmerized by the colours of her person. He swallowed and nodded his head again. He was afraid but-………. He would be brave. He would be brave- he had to be, just until he got back to his pack, his siblings.

“Promise me that you’ll never stop believing in Jack Frost. No matter what you see, please promise me- promise me that you’ll still love him.”

Bran took a breath but there was no hesitation in his voice when he replied.

“I promise.”

Tooth gave a watery smile, handed over the cylinders and flew away. Nick looked to where she fled and nodded at Sandy.

“I’ll go after her.”

Alone, with only the sandman for comfort, Bran hesitated. He didn’t like the strange way the guardians had acted. Most of all he didn’t like why they seemed so sad. He took a breath and met the encouraging gaze of the dream guardian. He thought of his siblings- his pack that was waiting for him. If finding out what happened to Jack Frost got him back to his family. Bran was going to do it. As determinedly as he could, Bran opened the cylinders and he _believed._

**[No specific Pov]**

The Stark children unsurprisingly gathered for a meeting after the feast. Of course, one should always expect quite a bit of dramatic entertainment when the Stark children gather.

“Married to the Prince! MARRIED! How could you not tell us any of this!!?” Robb hissed angrily.

 _‘How incredibly rude.’_ Pitch tittered

Only Sansa heard his comment but showed no reaction despite agreeing with his words. Before Sansa could say anything in her defense, Robb bellowed on, too consumed by his anger to care for what she may say.

“Do you have any idea what this means for us!? So many plans- **OUR** plans, all of it _ruined!”_

“Pfft, I think you mean your plans.” Theon scoffed earning the Stark heir’s anger.

“Shut up Greyjoy. This has nothing to do with you!” Robb snarled.

“Oh yes, because you’ve been so subtle about your plans for **war**!” Theon sneered mockingly.

“If Sansa wants to get married to the blonde twat, I say we let her!!” Arya shrugged with a low grumble.

Robb glared at where both his sisters were standing defiantly with stubborn glares in their eyes directed at him. The Stark sisters were finally getting along, and to think, all it took was planning murder to have them bond. Sansa was careful to play her expected role as the stiff and proper lady sister she was supposed to be.

“What was I supposed to say? Beg your pardon my prince, but I’ll have to decline your proposal for you see my brother- Robb, plans to **_engage in war_**. I do hope your feelings are spared.” She snapped tightly with rosy red cheeks of frustration.

Robb’s face soured and his face began to grow purple due to his anger. He opened his mouth but Sansa was quicker to interject before he could speak a word.

“Father agreed and there’s no changing it. So I suggest you simply accept and adjust your plans Robb. I am going to marry Joffrey, go to Kings landing and I am going to become Queen!!”

There was a tense moment of silence where the two siblings simply regarded each other with fierce glares. Arya had moved to the side of Sansa, showing just who she agreed with. Theon found himself in the unfortunate position of witnessing a Stark sibling stand-off, and with all he knew about the Stark sisters; Robb was going to lose. It was Robb who broke the silence as he suspiciously regarded his sisters.

“You! You two are planning something!?” Robb accused, pointing his fingers at both sisters.

“A wedding!? Why yes we certainly are.” Sansa hissed

“Do not play me for a fool Sansa! I know I’m right. If I wasn’t, Arya would be just as surprised and furious as me!”

“What!? Don’t bring me into _your_ temper tantrum!” Arya growled

“You see! Sansa’s talking about becoming Queen and marrying into royalty and you’re being supportive. I don’t believe it for a bit!” Robb accused with a victorious shout

“So? If she wants to prance about with a shiny metal ring around her head and play loving wife to the blonde shit then she can do what she likes!” Arya countered.

“Oh shit!” Theon muttered.

Theon knew that Arya’s words had simply confirmed it all for Robb that the sisters were planning something. Honestly, if the two didn’t want Robb to click- they should have continued to be at odds with another. A schemer always knew when a plot was in play. There was only one card left to play and if Robb wanted to win this little spar of words he’d-

Robb stood straight, glaring with threat and warning as he stared down at his sisters.

“If you two don’t tell me right now what you plan, I swear to the Gods’ that I will tell Jon!”

“There it is!” Theon mockingly cheered with a laugh

He ignored the scathing sneer all three Starks cast his way. He just let himself laugh and shake his head at the sheer predictability.

“SHUT UP THEON!” They all snapped

“You got nothing to tell Jon!” Arya snapped at Robb.

“I won’t tell him nothing if you both tell me what you plan!”

“We ain’t planning nothing!”

“I’m no fool Arya Stark! You tell me right now!”

“You can’t order us to do anything Robb!” Sansa hissed

“I can too!”

“Nae you can’t!”

“Yes I can!”

Theon just couldn’t help but laugh as the childish arguing continued. This! These are the future leaders of House Stark! This is the House he would choose over his own blood? This lot of children!? He laughed because surely he must be just as mad as the entire Stark lot. Theon only sobered from his laughing fit when Sansa spat her next words. The easiest way to win any argument over Robb and to evoke his anger.

“Oh just shut up and listen to yourself! You sound worse than **mother!”**

Theon interfered just in time to keep the Stark heir from lunging for his sisters. Of course, it was silly of him to expect the girls to stay put and not antagonize their brother any more. Arya took advantage of Robb’s lunge to tackle the both of them. It was honestly just a messy pile of kicking screaming and pained yelps from Theon after that. Sansa even lost herself to the moment by encouraging Arya with shouted openings to get pass Theon and hit Robb.

Of Course this is the scene Jon is greeted by when he finally joins them.

“Whoa Whoa WAIT! That’s enough- ARYA GET OFF HIM! Robb **calm down**!”

Realizing just who happened upon them, all four of the tangled mess of people hurry to stand. The three Stark children refuse to look at where Jon stares at them. Theon is rubbing at the aches from the tumble and meets Jon’s gaze straight on. After all he didn’t do nothing wrong. This was not what Jon was expecting when he figured he’d be late. Rickon was a little harder to put to bed than usual and Arya had disappeared really quickly after the feast.

In truth, Jon expected to find his siblings arguing- the engagement was a shock- but he did not expect to find them grappling like actual animals. The fun loving spirit in him found it funny, but the older Brother he’d become was incredibly concerned. It had been a long time since his new siblings had ever physically fallen into a spat. He’d thought they’d grown out of arguing with their fists. This was too reminiscent of when they were all so young. Arya and Robb fighting, Theon stuck in the middle and Sansa shouting on the side-lines. He stifled the fond little smile that threatened to appear on his lips and tried to keep the atmosphere light.

“So, who would like to start explaining just what is going on?” Jon prompted with an easy smile.

 Robb, Sansa, Arya and Theon looked everywhere else but at Jon. The reborn winter spirit waited patiently but his curiosity was greater. When the silent waiting was getting him nowhere, he aimed an expectant look at the weakest willed one among them.

It took seconds but Robb cracked easily. He always hated disappointing Jon- more so than others.

“Arya and Sansa are planning something and won’t tell me what it is!”

Jon opens his mouth to respond, but Robb’s tattling sets of a chain of accusations. Sansa is quick to counter Robb’s words with an accusation of her own.

“Robb’s been training the men because he intends to start a war!”

“Am not!” Robb snaps

“Are too!” Arya chimes

A mistake as she becomes the next target of Robb’s accusations.

“Well Arya used the wolves to attack Jeyne Poole and she sabotaged Joffrey’s saddle in attempt to have him murdered!”

Arya accepts the accusation with pride- because she was not ashamed, and hey, Sansa is planning to kill the queen? Isn’t that worse? Sansa smirks because she knows that Robb’s counter was weak and Arya had little care about that secret coming out. When Arya delivers her counter, the sisters are both wearing similar smug smirks.

“Robb’s been scheming to break up Father and Lady Catelyn. He’s trying to drive her away from Winterfell!”

Jon’s eyes widen bigger and looks at Robb with absolute shock. It’s as if he is seeing Robb for the first time, and Robb squirms under the stare. Theon can’t help but pity the Stark heir, he truly stood little chance against his sisters. Especially now with the both of them supporting each other rather than fighting. Poor sod never stood a chance. Robb in his desperation must have felt Theon’s pity and threw the Greyjoy into the line of fire.

“Sansa and Theon have been meeting in dark corners alone.”

‘That fucking bastard!’ is Theon’s initial thought as he stiffens in fear of Jon’s reaction. By this point Jon was just gaping and suffering whiplash from all the accusations. When he looks at Theon with an unreadable look on his face, the Greyjoy looks over to where the sisters stand. He looks at them and knows they can read his expression that pleads for help or interference. Arya just arches a brow without care and remains silent. Sansa just gives a wicked smirk and does the same.

‘These fucking assholes!’ Theon thinks as it becomes clear that the Starks were willing to let Theon take the entirety of Jon’s reaction on his own. Well, if he’s going to go down, then he’s going to bring these traitorous bastards with him. Once again before Jon can get a word out, he’s interrupted. Theon is not going to be the scrape goat to Jon’s possible anger, so he throws _all the Stark’s_ back in the line of fire.

“Robb’s been sending Rickon to the whore house so he can sniff out more spies. You’re uncle Benjen told Robb he planned to take you with him to the wall- but Robb challenged him to a fight of swords to keep you here. Sansa is planning ways to get the Hound to switch his loyalty to House Stark in place of Joffrey. Arya has also been stalking Tyrion Lannister and Jaime Lannister! ALSO! Arya and Sansa plan to travel to Kings landing so they can kill the Queen!”

Jon is just frozen with raw shock while all the three Stark children grow pale with Theon’s revelations. Theon swallows at the thick silence and is so desperate to break it. Only now realising just how much he revealed.

“If I’m going down, I’m taking you all down with me!”

His words spark the wolf children’s anger and they clamber to shout at him.

“NEVER TRUST A GREYJOY!” “Theon you complete and utter-“ “YER GOING DOWN KRAKEN! I’M GONNA-“

“What!? Just- What!?” Jon repeats in pure surprise.

There’s a difference between having Theon riled up and coming to the realisation everything the Greyjoy said was obviously true. If it wasn’t, he doubts his siblings would look so _guilty._ Jon tries to digest the fact that Theon had never been joking when he spoke of Robb’s habit of scheming. He only slightly comes to term with it before he moves on to the next issue. Arya tried to sabotage and injure Prince Joffrey. Sure, Jon didn’t like the kid, but he was still a kid. Oh more importantly-

“What did he mean by you two are planning to kill the Queen!?” Jon sternly interrupts with a low hiss.

The Stark sisters snap their mouths shut and look everywhere but at Jon. Robb’s eyes go wide as he too just realises what Theon let slip.

“It was a jape, was it not? Tell me it was a jape!” Robb demands

Theon feels just a smidge bad about throwing the sister’s into the line of fire- but then again, they did it to him first. Still with both Jon and Robb looming over them with stern and awaiting glares- the poor girls looked really small and young. Worst of all they looked so stubbornly guilty and unashamed.

“Sansa?” Jon prompts

The red haired girl stiffens her upper lip, lifts her head with as much dignity as she can and meets her brothers probing gazes. Arya moves to step forward to take the blame, but Sansa stops her and pulls her back. Killing the Queen was Sansa’s idea and she won’t let Arya take the fall. Besides…….she’s grown tired of hiding her real self.  Perhaps it was time to be honest with not only her siblings but herself.

“It was my idea. Arya had nothing to do with it, I just convinced her to help.”

“You what?” Robb gapes but Jon just looks pensive

“You’re completely mad! This is utter insanity! Have you lost your wits? And you!” Robb continues before turning an enraged gaze onto Theon’s form.

“Why didn’t you stop them!? The least you could have done-“

“Oh don’t start with me STARK! If you paid attention-“

Theon and Robb started to fight and their yapping only caused Arya to join in hopes of helping herself ignore her nerves. All the while Sansa and Jon regarded each other in silence. Jon looked at his flame haired sister and tried to understand just what drove her to want to murder the Queen. Had he failed her? Did he not try hard enough to bond with her? Why would she…?

Sansa fidgeted under Jon’s stare nervous and afraid of what he must be thinking of her now. It’s the voice in her mind that croons to her reassurances. It’s the laughing mocking tone in his words that assure her Jon will not turn her away. There is a tone of knowing in the voice, as if he knows Jon’s darkest secrets and wishes for her to ask for them. She doesn’t want to know though. She doesn’t want to violate and intrude on her sibling’s deepest fears and darkest secrets as she has the rest of Winterfell. Sansa is too afraid to let herself see.

“Why?” Jon questions

The single word is enough to break up the squabbling of the other three. Now all eyes are on Sansa who is visibly shaking. Only Arya knows that Sansa trembles with anger not fear. Only Arya knows that Sansa trembles with a lust for blood and vengeance. When Sansa looks up from the ground her eyes are a bright ice cold blue. The night around her dances like she is a single flame of red among shadows. The expression she wears cold and cruel- when she curls her lips into a snarling sneer, Robb feels his heart race with shock.

Sansa has dropped her act and before her siblings is her True Self.

“The Queen and her brother pushed Bran from the tower.”

The second she’s spoken, the air among them shifts. Theon hadn’t known why the Stark sisters wished to kill the Queen. Now to hear the reason- he knows with absolute certainty that Cersei Lannister will die. Robb is frozen as the blood in his veins thrum to the beat of his heart. The rage- the rage in his heart and the roaring of murderous thought’s in his head is demanding he make Cersei and Jaime Lannister _suffer_ for daring to harm **HIS _pack_**.

Arya is busy watching Jon. She watches and waits in slight fear but also gleeful anticipation. She waits to see how the reborn winter spirit will rage. She waits to see what winter will bring now that the Lannisters have dared to threaten one of the winter spirits loved ones.

“And you are sure of this?”

Sansa simply looks at Arya, and the shorter sister is quick to support her word.

“Willow and I found blonde hair in the tower from where Bran was pushed.”

It surprised them when Robb also spoke up with a bit of information that served in showing the Lannisters to be guilty. He says it distractedly as his mind is racing to recall every instant he’s seen the Lannisters since they’d arrive in Winterfell.

“One of the children Rickon interrogated spoke of seeing the Queen and her brother steal away into quiet corners.”

Jon makes a mental note to address Robb’s decision to send their baby brother to interrogate others later. Instead he focuses on the rising of his temper and the ice creeping towards his heart.

Theon listens and he thinks. He lets his mind race just as Robb is doing. However, unlike Robb who as the Stark heir- primarily thinks in strategies and politics. Theon focuses on what he knows best. Theon focuses on what he knows of women and their ways. He recalls all the times he’d seen Cersei and Jaime Lannister interact. He thinks of all the ways they touched and looked at each other- all the times they whispered to another. If there is one thing Theon knows best- it is the lust and hunger a woman and man exchange with their eyes alone.

He laughs because he knows then the dirtiest darkest secret of the Lannisters.

Sansa bristles having incorrectly assumed that Theon is laughing at her. She glares and venomously insists on the truth of her claims.

“Bran saw something! That’s why they pushed him! He witnessed something and promised not to tell but Jaime Lannister pushed him regardless.”

Theon calms enough to blurt his words- just in time to cut off Robb’s angry snarl at his laughter.

“I’ll tell you what the little Stark witnessed.”

“You know?” Arya demanded with surprise- even Sansa had surprise on her face.

“The queen and her brother are fucking! Think about it!”

So the Starks think on it, and though it should seem outrageous…. Theon’s theory begins to make more sense. Robb’s brain works fast and he makes connections. All the while his siblings listen to his murmurs with dawning realization. Until it is Jon who sums of the entirety of their thoughts.

“The Queen and her brother are indulging in incestuous relations.” 

“You don’t think……”

“It’s entirely possible.”

“Then that means the Royal children-“

“Are not the blood of King Robert.”

The atmosphere shifts again because this is no longer simply about Bran. The Stark children have unintentionally unravelled the truth behind the Royal children.

“You can’t marry Prince Joffrey.” Robb declares sternly

Sansa is ready to argue but Robb interrupts and voices what his thoughts have concluded.

“This is no longer about vengeance for Bran. This is bigger. The Lannisters are too strong a force for our House to rally against- especially as we have no true evidence. Calling war for the injury of a member of our house is one thing- killing the Queen is another. But this will effect more than just the Lannisters- this will affect House Baratheon. Robert Baratheon has no heir to his throne!”

“It’s not just House Baratheon! It’s the entire seven kingdoms! There is no heir for the iron throne!” Arya hissed with slow rising panic.

This was dangerous, if anyone were to overhear their impromptu meeting they would be slaughtered or worse. Sansa swallows and speaks with another theory.

“You don’t think Lord Arryn’s death was……”

“We can only assume. Everything we say **must** be assumptions and not fact!” Robb presses as his eyes dart about frantically.

They can’t be heard, they can’t show what they know to be fact.

“You can’t marry the blond shit!” Theon hisses with near hysteria to Sansa.

The red haired girl does not take his words kindly. She turns on him and sneers right back- refusing to agree to his demands. She stands by her word even when Robb joins the Greyjoy in attempting to convince her.

“This is no time to be stubborn Sansa!” Robb snarls

“NO! You will not stop me! This is my plan. **_My_** choice and **_my_** wants! **You** don’t get to tell me what to do when you’ve never cared enough to do so before!”

Robb’s jaw snaps shut and his entire expression hardens. Even Theon falls silent because Sansa is allowing herself to be heard and seen. He looks at where Jon and Arya watch, the guilt on Arya’s face blatant as the sun. Jon’s expression is completely blank but the intensity of his eyes never falter. Robb does not know what to say or do, because he knows he has no right to demand anything of Sansa. Not after how he’s treated her.

He’s never forgotten those earlier years when it was just Jon, himself and her. It’s clear by the way Sansa glares at him and her eyes shine with years old pain and hurt……that Sansa has not either. Most of all Robb can see how she does not forgive him.

Sansa continues, she wants Robb to know- all of them to know that she is more than they think. She wants to see them realise they don’t know her and they never tried like Jon or Bran. She wants them to see what they’ve created.

Sansa is not a fish, she is not a lady.

She is a blood wolf who craves blood and fear.

Behind Sansa the shadows grow great and dance to her malice. She hears the deep toned laughter of the voice in her head that encourages her to rage. She embraces the look of guilt and sorrow, sympathy and slight fear in her sibling’s eyes.

“I’m going to Kings landing with your permission or not. I’m going to kill the Queen and her brother- I will see to it that they suffer. I will haunt them and finally when I take my vengeance I will become Queen. This is not a negotiation Robb, I’m not asking for your permission.”

Arya looks at her sister and is certain of one thing. She looks at the fearful image her sister makes and can see what she had never bothered to see before. Sansa is stronger, more dangerous than she ever dared to imagine. Arya can’t help but shiver and sneaks a look at Jon. She tries to read his expression but cannot get any hints as to where his thoughts are. She wonders if he sees what she does.

Can Jon see the dancing shadows behind Sansa?

The silence has grown uncomfortable again, and no one seems to want to break it. Not until Jon speaks again.

“Are you sure this is what you want Sansa?”

Jon speaks so softly that if they had not been silent they would have thought it to be a whisper on the wind. Sansa looks at Jon and searches his eyes, attempting to find hints to his thoughts. She sees none but determinedly nods her head and confirms she will not be backing down.

“I don’t trust the blonde shit! There’s something wrong with him!” Theon sneers

“You know I can handle him.” Sansa counters with a confident smirk.

“I don’t want to risk anymore of us! I don’t want you to be alone.” Robb softly croaks.

Sansa looks at Robb with wide eyes, because she can hear what Robb does not say. It’s not an apology- Sansa wouldn’t accept one anyway, but it is the nicest thing Robb has ever said to her. She and Robb both know they will never be close, not with all the hurt he put her through when they were children. She’s not the forgiving type and Robb is never apologetic.

But they are pack- family- siblings.

They will always love each other in their own ways.

“She won’t be alone. Never again.” Arya adds before nudging Sansa’s arms with a smirk.

Sansa does not know what to say, or even feel. The voice in her mind is silent for the first time in years. He does not whisper in her mind and she does not tremble. In this moment Sansa’s worst fear has been slain for her siblings……… her pack……… they do not abandon her for all the lies she’d performed. Instead they are willing to embrace her real self.

Sansa cries but she does so silently with a smile, her head held high. Then Jon laughs, his laughter is light and carefree. He loops his arm around Robb and Theon and grins with mischief.

“So sweet sister…… tell us about your plan to kill the Queen.”

The smile Sansa gives turns dark and cruel, a savage grin similar to the barring of teeth that appears on Robb and Arya’s lips. Theon shivers as he looks at the wolf children he’s surrounded by- he looks at Jon and trembles at the fear in his gut. Unlike Sansa, Robb and Arya, Jon is laughing with a friendly smirk. No one would think him any danger unless they were to look into his eyes.

For Jon’s eyes were dark with winter rage and cruelty.

** [Merida] **

She waited in the godswood long after the others left. She distracted herself with Willow-wisp, petting the wolf and brushing her fur. At this time of night, and with her suspicions, Merida felt her courage faltering. Old haunts from her before life threatened to consume her mind. She grew paranoid the longer she waited. Certain that she could hear that deep rumbling mocking laugh that taunted her fears in her ears.

“I am not afraid of the dark. I am not afraid of the shadows. I do not believe in the Nightmare King.” She chanted lowly as paranoia messed with her senses.

She heard the snapping of twigs and swung her sword. Had she been less trained then she was, she would have sliced through Jon’s neck. Not that it mattered much as Jon was too angry to really notice. At his feet frost seeped into the ground and the air turned chilly cold. The wind stopped and the godswood seemed still.

Merida trembled because while she did not fear the boogieman. She was deathly frightened of the rage of winter. Jon may be her brother now, an ally who she could trust entirely- but that did not mean she was foolish enough to believe him harmless. She’s seen the devastation winter can leave behind.

She did not want to be a victim to it.

There was a reason she never asked Jon how he came to be reborn.

After all winter spirits cannot be killed twice.

Despite the cowardice that wanted to consume her, Merida steeled her courage and told Jon what she was now certain to be true.

“I told you Sansa was much too strange.”

Jon said nothing but he began to shake and Merida hurried to spill the rest of her words.

“Pitch Black is here and he’s been sticking close to our sweet sister.”

It took only a second, but once the second had passed- everything happened too fast. Jon didn’t scream or shout, he didn’t make a sound. Merida barely had time to prepare herself. Ice exploded outwards from beneath his feet. The trees became encased in ice and snow began to fall from the sky.

\---

All through Winterfell, the people trembled from the cold as their breaths became visible. Any liquids exposed to the air froze solid. Something that shook Tyrion Lannister as he attempted to drink from his cups but only found ice. In her rooms Cersei shivered and clung to her brother. Jaime struggled to keep her from screaming and failed at soothing her fears. No matter how tightly they clung to each other, neither could feel any sense of warmth.

Ned Stark, Robert Baratheon and Benjen Stark felt their skin bristle and rise in goose bumps. Their battle instincts warning them to ready their swords for war was on the horizon…… and something powerful was on the rise. Ned and Benjen breathed their house words and Robert felt the air change.

Lady Catelyn startled out of her seat by Bran’s side and shivered. She moved to restart the fire to bring about warmth but the flames refused to spark. She heard something that sounded like clinking glass and turned at the sound. She felt something like horror spread from her gut to her chest. Frost crawled and covered the entirety of the window glass and seeped through the walls.

Theon felt his naked skin shiver but ignored it, he focused on the rhythm of his hips. He focused on the moans and gasped sounds of the whore beneath him. He ignored the world, ignored the truth he learned tonight. He ignored the ache in his chest because he didn’t want to acknowledge the reality of his life. He couldn’t afford to acknowledge his truth. ‘We do not sow’ those are his house words and yet……. Theon is doing just that. He should reap what he desires, it is the iron born way. But he won’t because he is loyal to the Starks. He increases the speed of his thrusts and is glad the whore beneath him cannot see his face. He would rather let her believed the wetness that drips from his face is sweat rather than tears. Theon is terrified, he is scarred worst of all he knows the real reason his chest aches.

Robb sits on his bed and trembles. He feels the sliding of his tears fall silently. He makes no sound just sits and stews in the rage of his blood. He stews in his anger until it consumes him and drives him to madness. He doesn’t feel the cold until it snuffs out the dying embers of his weak fire. He doesn’t startle or find it strange that ice is forming on his walls and floors. He knows Jon, knows that Jon is raging. Strange things happen when Jon is angry- Robb knew it best. He’d prepped for war, he’d schemed for it even. He was ready to slaughter and kill out of vengeance for Bran. This was different now, and Robb was afraid of what awaits his pack in the future. He reaches for the crinkled parchment he’d stolen and hidden away when he was just a boy. He stared at the parchment that was both his greatest shame and greatest fear. Robb recalled all that he and his siblings uncovered. He recalled the look in Sansa’s eyes as she defied him. He let it replay over and over in his head until it seared itself into his memories. He released a breath and moved to his ice covered walls. He pressed his forehead against the ice and prayed.

Winter is coming……..and he will take from all till he is satisfied.


	17. Birth of a Dragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ran away from me. I had no control over what happened. Visery's just demanded the spotlight and I eventually lost that fight.   
> Also, I was very impatient and simply couldn't wait anymore.   
> At least you get some Drogo x Hiccup fluff. 
> 
> I'm not actually a fan of Rhaegar and well the entire House Targaryen in general. So I took the liberty to blatantly show my distaste for them. Viserys is probably the most tolerable for me of the lot. I only like my Daenerys because it's actually Hiccup. I don't bash them don't worry, I just paint them in a very unfavorable light. 
> 
> IN OTHER NEWS *IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT!!* 
> 
> So, I'm going to turn this story into a series. The series revolves around the Big Four- but them as other characters in other universes. I have already started on the next addition to this series. Fondly named: The Big Four and the Boy who lived. I'm not sure whether I should wait and post the next addition once I complete this one. Or I should post it anyway and work on both at the same time. They will be able to be read as stand alone stories. Aka you don't have to read Big Four in Westeros to understand Big Four and the boy who lived. At most, the additions following this story will just have mentions of the life the Big Four lived as Dany, Margery, Jon and Arya. 
> 
> What do you think? Feel free to tell me your preference. You have until the next chapter to influence my decision :) 
> 
> Enjoy the update.   
> As next chapter we say bye to Hiccup and hello to Rapunzel and sweet dear precious Eugene.

** [Hiccup] **

When he wakes up, he is unsure of how long it’s been. The fog in his mind has never lasted so long before. In fact it’s the longest he’s ever zoned out. The first thing he notices is that he is in bed, bare naked with his dragon eggs pressed tightly to his chest. He panics and thinks that during his foggy mind he’d been taken by his husband again.

Only when he swears to feel a pulsing from the shell of Toothless’s egg, does he calm.

He takes breaths and tries to sort through the fog of his mind. Attempting to recall what he’d last done. It overwhelms him like a raging fire among dry grass. Image after image floods his mind of the life he’d allowed to be devoured. He can feel it- the pulsing warmth that burns in his chest. It burns and it roars and wants for fuel. It hungers for blood and fire.

Hiccup knows the dragon that lives in his soul no longer sleeps.

He doesn’t cry- he has no tears as the dragon in his soul dries them before they even form. Instead he contemplates what he’d done. He remembers the sound of her screams and sobbing pleas. He tries to remember if she’d died before he let his fire consume her or if she was alive. Hiccup wonders if he is now a monster having murdered someone without remorse.

The eggs in his hold pulse again and he smiles.

Ultimately, he decides, it does not matter.                                                                

Monster or not, he has Toothless- his dragon family.

They will never leave or judge him for gifting someone the breath of a dragon.  

He’s so busy conversing with his eggs that he startles when Irri enters. She mirrors his surprise by dropping the bowl in her hands at seeing him active. They are at a standstill for a few seconds, both caught staring at each other in shock. Irri only moves when Hiccup lets out an awkward laugh and attempts to cover his naked self.

“Hi?”

Irri is by his side quickly and fusses over him with frantic eyes. Hiccup is unsure on what to do with her attention. Especially as she seems seriously concerned for him. When he finally manages to get her to calm down she is quick to explain- having seen his questioning eyes.

“Khaleesi has been sick for long time. Khal worried for Khaleesi.”

“Oh.”

Hiccup does not know what to say.

He expects the usual feeling of apprehension to overwhelm him at the mention of his husband. However nothing but passive interest is all he feels. Not even the dragon in his chest stirs with interest at the mention of the man. Hiccup feels a little panicked over what that could possibly mean, and comforts himself by clutching the eggs tighter to his skin.

“Khal must know Khaleesi wake.” Irri determines before moving to leave.

Hiccup scrambles to get her to stay but she’s faster than him and he feels woozy. When his world stops spinning he then feels the beginning of bile crawl up his throat. He quickly grabs for a nearby basin and throws up what little he had in his stomach. Of course- because fate really seems to hate him, his husband arrives just in time to witness the act.

“I’m *mmph* t-totally fine!!” he quickly grumbles but of course his husband ignores him.

As the Khal begins barking orders at the servants, Hiccup finds himself cradled in the arms of his rather comfortable husband. The gentle soothing strokes of his fingers in his hair, actually helps calm the nausea he felt. Until he finally feels well enough to focus on the world again.

The first thing he gets trapped in, is the intensity of Drogo’s eyes. They stare into his own as if trying to speak directly to the dragon in his soul. Hiccup can’t help but shiver- involuntarily curling closer into the Khal’s arms- taking note of the warmth of the man’s skin on his own naked flesh.

“You have been sick for too long.” Drogo grumbles deeply.

It takes a few seconds for Hiccup to realize he understood the words his husband spoke. He spends a few extra seconds with his mind racing and struggling to understand if the fog taught him Dothraki or his husband could now speak Western.

Had he really been sick for so long!?

“You can speak!”

And of course the first words Hiccup manages to blurt in response are ridiculous.

“I-I mean, Hey! That’s great. G-good work now that we speak the same language-“

“No.”

“…… please don’t start this again.”

“No. Not much.”

“Not much... Oh, you don’t speak much. That’s okay we can work on that. How much do you know? Exactly.”

“Some.”

“…. great”

Hiccup really hoped his smile didn’t look as strained as it felt. Before he could get caught up in his thoughts once more, the Khal did something that surprised him. The man moved his hand from his hair to his chin and cupped his cheek. The awkward moment only got worse as the Khal then pressed his forehead against Hiccups.

Hiccup was pretty certain his face was red- what with his new pale complexion. The action was just as intense and intimidating as when the man stared. Also, by moving his face, Hiccup became acutely aware of the literal nakedness of his body. Great Odin, why does he always end up being naked!!

“No more sick.” Drogo declared before pulling away.

Hiccup could only hum in distraction, feeling woozy once more for an entirely different reason.

“Wife need rest.”

“Eh heh…. I think I’ve rested long enough.”

In attempt to stand up, Hiccup felt dizzy once again and stumbled back into Drogo’s careful hold. It was starting to annoy him, how out of balance he felt. Surely he hadn’t been so lost in the fog he’d forgotten how to walk.

“Rest.” Drogo ordered

And with a reluctant sigh, Hiccup gave in.

He’d been just about ready to start requesting and inquiring after how long he was being ordered to rest. Only to be startled into shrieking when his husband lifted him easily in a bridal hold.

“This is utterly embarrassing.”

To make matter’s worst, he swore the eggs in his arms felt like they were laughing.

Then the Khal carefully placed him back in bed and bundled him with furs. Not that Hiccup was complaining because he hadn’t noticed he was feeling a little chilly until he was covered. He felt an odd stirring sensation in his belly, but decided it was probably indigestion or something.

_“The both of you need to stay healthy.”_

“Right. I should totally get to learning Dothraki if this marriage is ever going to work out.”

The Khal seemed to laugh before he leaned forward and kissed Hiccup’s hair. At the same time his large hand covered his stomach. The touch and kiss caused Hiccup’s entire body to burn and he’s not entirely sure what that all meant. Mostly because his mind was muddled and completely dizzy under the soft and caring treatment.

“I will return.”

“You take your time big guy.” Hiccup dazedly mumbles

The Khal smirks before barking something at Irri and then leaves. As soon as the man’s presence is gone, Hiccup feels a lot more in control. The dizzy spell he’d been suffering fades and he is close to panicking about everything.

“Khaleesi?”

Hiccup quickly reaches out and snatches Irri’s hand with near desperation. He is unaware of how his hold heats the skin of her wrist. He takes no notice of how she has similar burn marks on her arms. He also does not know how deadly and intimidating- no **commanding** his gaze is.

“How long have I been sick?”

“Khaleesi not been well for 1 moon and 2 weeks.”

Irri is very soft and careful with the delivery of the news. She’s knows she must because the Khalessi is in a very fragile state. There’s an obvious difference when the dragon is awake and the Khaleesi is aware. Irri has come to learn it so well that she can tell which is in control. She smiles as comforting as possible, hoping she can comfort the recently awakened Khaleesi.

Hiccup is still in shock.

A month and 2 weeks.

He’d been lost to the fog for a month and 2 weeks.

Anything could have happened between then and now. By the gods how much did he miss!? Just as he’s beginning to give in to the panic attack. Irri swiftly interrupts.

“Khalessi must calm. Stress not good for baby.”

Hiccup’s entire world explodes once again when he finally registers what she’d said.

“What did you s-say?”

He prays to Odin, Thor and even Loki that he’d simply misheard.

He knows he didn’t when Irri takes his hand and places it upon his belly. It doesn’t take a lot of concentration for him to figure it out. The horrifying truth dawns on him like a Bewilderbeast Dragon swallowing him whole. Everything starts making sense and when the stirring sensation in his belly starts again- he feels the need to throw up again. The dragon eggs are no longer enough for him- he can feel himself growing hysterical. He is desperate for something- anything that would register as real for him.

Without really thinking he calls for the one constant he’s had since he’d been born in this life.

He calls for his brother.

“Viserys! P-please. I need to see my brother.”

Irri’s face twists with distaste, but she is a servant to the Khalessi. She will do as she is told without question. She places the clothes for him to dress on the furs of his bed. 

“As you wish Khaleesi.”

When she leaves, Hiccup finally allows himself to cry. For a silly little moment, he’s pretty sure his dragons are crying with him.

But the notion is ridiculous because they are simply eggs.

**[Viserys]**

A wafting of cold wind sweeps over his bare back. He tries his best not to be obvious with how he shivers. He tells himself he should be used to the sensation. The truth is simple, and he knows he will not know warmth for a very long time.

“Move.”

Viserys obeys without a fight.

He’d long lost that battle.

The wounds on his pale skin are so starkly obvious. He’s simply grateful it hadn’t festered with his less than proper attempt at tending to them. He wanted to feel anger, hatred something other than defeat. However, he was just so tired. So tired and exhausted- by this point, Viserys just wanted to feel warm.

He was tired of screaming, and he’d long stopped feeling shamed.

“Tch. So much for a King.” One of his Dothraki tormentor’s spat.

King?

He was never a King.

A truth he’d long learned from a very early age.

He was simply a second son. The spare, the throw away child. The failure produce from his mother’s womb. A scaly worm that escaped the clutches of death in the womb and declared itself a dragon at birth.

Viserys was never a dragon.

His father knew it, and so did his mother.

He was a parasite.

He would always be a parasite.

He tried to dissuade his mind from that line of thought by working harder. He knew he reeked- dealing with this amount of horse shit would do that. The work was disgusting and extremely demanding, but after a month. It was somehow pleasant. A way of escape- of being able to do something with his own two hands.

He had nothing- they’d taken his horse, his tent, his sword and clothes. They treated him like he was another slave in the company. As if he was worth nothing more than the horse shit he worked with. Although even that was a lie, because the horses were fed and cared for better than him too.

Khal Drogo had ordered them not to let him die.

Somehow Viserys found this to be a harsher fate.

He’d long learnt how to ignore the pain of his ruined feet. Walking without boots would do that apparently.

 “ARRGH!” He yelped having been whipped again.

He felt the red welt split, and knew he was bleeding once again. The tears in his eyes was not unexpected nor was the whimper he gave.

“FASTER LITTLE KING!!”

Viserys privately vowed to the sevens that one day he would kill that man.

He swore he would get his vengeance and he would use blood and fire to do it.

He yelped as the whip cracked once more and another welt split. Again and again the man continued to laugh and mock him. Viserys had never been more aware of his place in life until that very moment.

“Enough!”

The order was sharp and cutting- but he didn’t care as he was too relieved that the whipping had ended. As the savages spoke in their tongue, he tried to catch his breath. As he tried to tend to his latest wound, he vaguely wondered who had interfered. He had no friends here, he’d figured that out after the first three days of this torture.

Looking over, he realized that the woman who made the order was one of his sister’s maidens.

The only one she had.

The thought of the fucking slave whore who’d disappeared fed the rage in his belly. He was going to find that cock loving little bitch and slice her from belly to head. He simply knew this was all her doing- her betrayal led to his current fate. Before he could get too deep into his plans of vengeance, the servant maid- Irri he thinks they called her- stood before him.

“Khaleesi is awake. She summons you to come.”

Though she looked at him with disgust- as if she were better than him. Viserys noticed none of it. Instead he found himself trembling- shivering but this time it was not from the cold.

“Dany?”

He heard the crack and felt the whip around his throat just as swiftly as he’d spoken. The sensation of choking never stopped being terrifying. The feeling of not being able to breathe- the burning from the inside out- it was the worst.

“She is Khaleesi to you.” Irri corrected.

“Y-Yessh”

The releasing of the whip was a gift from the gods. He rubbed at his neck, biting his tongue so he didn’t whimper too loudly.

“S-she’s awake?” he rasped with a mix of shock, confusion and a smidgen of hope.

“Clean. Do not make Khaleesi wait.”

He was dismissed and offered nothing else. He couldn’t bring himself to move, mostly because he was unsure of what he felt and thought. At least he was until the crack of the whip sounded again. He cried out in agony and fell forward.

Covered in horse shit, bleeding and whipped.

This is what Viserys has become without his sister.

Nothing more than a shit stained whipping boy.

He is taken to bathe- nothing like the lavish luxury he used to expect. Now he is drowned in cold buckets of water. He scrubs with itchy rags that leave his pale skin red and irritated. The oils and soaps he uses are weak scented. They are not strong enough to rid of him of the stench of horse shit. Instead it only dulls the smell.

As he scrubs at his head, watching the blackened mud and shit wash of his body. The pale clean state of his flesh is strange to see. It is wrong to him, as if he is wearing the body of another. Scars and welts, rough and hard- nothing like his once pampered soft flesh.

“Dress.”

He fumbles to catch the clothes thrown at his cold naked form. He marvels as they are not rags. He can feel a hot sensation building behind his eyes. Silently, he begins to dress- there are no maids to help him.

When he is done, he manages to see a muddied reflection of himself in one of the buckets.

Viserys does not recognize the man that stares back.

The man that stares back looks nothing like the lost Targaryen Prince he’d once been. Instead of riches on his neck, shoulder length pale white hair and violet eyes so fierce. The man in the dirtied water looks like a slave. His neck is ruined with rope scars that will never fade. The skin of his face is weathered and dry from lack of care. The violet in his eyes once so fierce now dull- defeated without purpose.

However it is the hair he lacks that snares his attention.

Viserys weakly reaches for his scalp and feels the bristled sensation of his pale hair’s regrowth.

The shaving of his head had been the first thing Khal Drogo demanded after Daenerys sudden isolation.

At the end of each week since then, they would shave his head clean.

The first time he had screamed until his voice was gone.

The second, he threatened and attempted to kill as many as he could.

The third, he begged and pleaded and offered everything he could think to say.

On the fourth- he did not fight it.

The threatening crack of the whip snapped him from his thoughts and he hastily cowered in submission. The maid- Irri, and his tormentor argue harshly with each other in their savage speak. Viserys however focuses instead on keeping his body from revealing how it trembles.

Dany.

He was going to see Dany.

His sister.

There was a burning behind his eyes.

“Come. Khaleesi waiting.”

Viserys follows- he does not know what to expect. Above all he is unsure of what he, himself will do. Will he see her and immediately attempt to strike her down? Will he slice her as he’d always dreamed and be declared a kin slayer? Does she know what he has become because of her? Will she recognize him at all?

When he enters the tent- any thoughts he had is lost and his mind grows blank.

There among furs dressed comfortably and looking every bit like a Khaleesi is his sister. However, it is not Daenerys that Viserys sees before him. He does not see the quiet mindless pathetic little girl he’d always tormented and abused. Where his sister should be is a woman with pale white hair and bright purple blazing eyes. The sister he knew had never been so expressive, in fact she was often blank faced and obedient.

Pathetic he had always called her.

The female before him cannot possibly be his sister.

“Viserys!?”

At the call of his name, his legs give and he falls to his knees.

How had he never seen how she resembles their mother?

He remembers his mother. The gentle movements and soft speaking. When he was young he’d always toddle after and demand her attention. She never gave him much of it. Never-none at all. Too busy with her mind on her precious Rhaegar and consumed with fear for his mad father. As a child he’d fooled himself in believing that she favored him most. A stupid boy so desperate for love he convinced himself that Rhaegar was second to her. After all it was he who she catered too and cared for daily.

He was a dragon- her sweet darling little dragon.

“Viserys, what have they done to you?” Daenerys gasps in shock.

However, He hears differently.

Instead, to his ears the words they register are these.

‘Viserys, what have you done?’ and they are spoken in the voice of his dead mother.

The wail that passes his lips is out of his control. He is on his knees, pressing his face to the ground and wailing for forgiveness to the ghost of his mother. The tears don’t stop and the years of cruelty he’d done onto his sister condemns him to this pitiful state. Never before has Visery’s embodied the title Beggar King as greatly as now.

The Dothraki have broken him- stripped him of his pride and arrogance.

Viserys madness has turned on him and he has reverted to his child mind.

The child mind haunted by the begging requests his mother had tasked him with before her death.

Viserys wails as the hatred that burned with him has been snuffed and all that remains is the cold sensation of guilt and regret.

** [Hiccup] **

Hiccup doesn’t know what to make of the man on his knees. The person before him does not match the memory he has of his mad brother. True, Viserys was cruel and by no means loving and caring as siblings should be. A fact, Hiccup could suffer through as he was a grown man who had experienced both the best things in life and the tragedies. To him, Viserys had always been a child acting and behaving as a child would.

In his grief, Hiccup didn’t care about the shenanigans and cruelties of his mad new Brother.

Why should he of have? He had no loved ones in this world.

But then he was blessed with his dragon eggs.

Then his mind was clearer. He had looked at his newfound brother and found that though he was not by any means what Hiccup imagined a sibling should be. He was Hiccup’s and that was enough. Though his new self as Daenerys was an orphaned child to a family of royals. Hiccup couldn’t mourn for strangers he cared little about. Viserys however grew up in a palace, grew up with a mother, father and older brother and lost them all. He’d been cast away from the land he called home and abandoned. To preserve his life they hid him among slaves yet still called him prince. They fed him promises of power and returning to claim a throne. They called him King and spoiled him with ego rising praises.

Hiccup always frowned at how the men who Viserys trusted seemed to be raising him only to have him fall.

Hiccup looked at the crying scarred and obviously tortured man before him. He found the heat of his temper growing. The lit candles around them burning brighter than before. Sometime while he was lost to the fog of his mind, Viserys had fallen from the rickety stick throne they had placed him in.

He had fallen and no one, not even Hiccup, had been there to catch him.

Hiccup held his brother, silently comforting him while he wailed his grief and apologies. He’s not sure how long they stayed in such position. It must have been hours as soon Irri had returned. She looked hesitant to interrupt but luckily enough, Viserys was no longer speaking- just sobbing.

Hiccup had looked up at her entrance with eyes aflame with anger burning bright. Though he had no knowledge of how threatening he looked- like a mother dragon protecting her hoard- he could feel the soul dragon in his blood stir. It hungered again, craved the taste of blood and fire.

It only took him shaking his head to have Irri immediately leave.

Another few hours passed and finally Viserys ceased his crying. However, his hold did not loosen, instead it tightened. Hiccup felt strange in having his brother cling to him so desperately. The Viserys he knew would have sooner beaten Hiccup black and blue than seek comfort from him.

“P-please Dany……. Don’t l-leave me again.”  Viserys whispered, pressing his face further against his stomach.

Hiccup shushed him and stroked his head. He already knew who was responsible for his brother’s state. The shaved head and the whipped like scars told him plenty. He knows to be thankful that Khal Drogo hadn’t ordered for Viserys’ death.

But Viserys should have had allies.

He should have had at least one to seek aid from.

The Dothraki answered to Khal Drogo, Hiccup could not blame them for following orders.

However, one particular man should have aided his brother. Even if it was to help Viserys tend to his wounds. He can tell his brother tried to treat the welts himself as it is so obviously sloppy.

The dragon in Hiccups blood croons for him to seek Jorah Mormont and burn him for the truth.

It’s the years of patience Hiccup had developed as a chief that kept him calm. It was rational thought that soothed the dragon in his soul. Perhaps even, the babe in his belly that anchored him to logical thought.

“I’m sorry.” Viserys mumbled again

“It’s okay.” Hiccup instantly soothed.

Because it was.

Because Hiccup wasn’t guilt free of what had happened to Viserys. He hadn’t cared to help the child, simply ignored him in his grief. It was probably for his sake that Khal Drogo gave orders to shame Viserys. Hiccup had been selfish, and his selfishness had consequences. Consequences that Viserys paid for. He could only hope the price paid was not too high.

When Viserys finally cleaned himself up he finally braved meeting Hiccup’s gaze. It really was wrong to see his brother so meek and unsure. The father Hiccup had been in his before life hated himself a little more.

“They said you called for me. They told me you’ve been sick.” Viserys softly spoke.

Hiccup moved and swallowed the growl that almost passed his lips at seeing his brother flinch.

“Yes. I promise you brother, if I had known, I would have come to your aid.”

Viserys grew wide eyed at Hiccup’s words, as if he couldn’t believe his own ears. It only served in reminding Hiccup of how utterly he failed the only flesh and blood he had in this world. It also served in awaking dark doubts about how he was going to have to be a parent again. Only this time he would be a Mother, not a father.

“Don’t. I deserve this. I failed you little sister. I failed you Dany.”

Viserys is trembling again, but no tears fall. Hiccup shakes his head and is going to voice his disagreement but Viserys talks over him.

“Mother asked me to protect you. She made me swear to the gods that I would. Our mother- despite being on her death bed- begged me to promise her you’d be protected.”

Hiccup stiffens completely.

Viserys never talked about their mother. He only ever talked and praised their Family’s royal blood and victories in battle. In fact, Viserys probably talked more about their insane father. He never once mentioned Rhaegar, their dead eldest brother, or their mother. Hiccup hadn’t cared to ask for more. He feels himself grow wary as Viserys suddenly begins to speak about their dead mother and eldest brother.

**[Viserys]**

He clings to his sister like a child would their mother. He does not care for how he looks. He has no shame, no pride to care about the image he portrays. Viserys grips onto his sister afraid that if he lets go she will turn to dust. She will leave him and he will truly be alone to be devoured. Daenerys does not shun him. She does not turn his clutching self away or stiffen in his hold. Instead she holds him and comforts him. He can feel her fingers caressing his shaved head- can hear the soothing whisper of her voice in his ears.

He deserves none of her care, but he is selfish and greedily wants more of her affection.

Mother had never held him like this.

Mother had never comforted him like this.

Mother had never cared for him.

Not like she had Rhaegar.

Daenerys is not Mother.

She does not know Rhaegar.

She knows nothing but Viserys and the lies and tales told by history and the rest of the world about their family. Daenerys is not Rhaegar’s sister. She will never be because Viserys will never truly tell her of the perfect son his mother preferred. He will never let her be stolen from him. Daenerys was his. Mother was dead- Father was dead and Precious perfect Rhaegar was dead.

Viserys is a parasite not a dragon.

So he does as a parasite does and he _takes._

“Mother never loved me Dany. I was nothing like Rhaegar.”

He dares not to whisper his words any louder. The spell he is attempting to cast needs a certain soft tone. She says nothing but does not pull away and he takes advantage of that. He presses closer to her- seeking the warmth of her body. In hopes of stealing some of the fire she burns with beneath her skin. He looks up into her eyes and once again is blinded by the image of their dead mother. He is desperate- weak, starved and crazed with want to feel warmth again.

Viserys wants desperately to know the burn of a dragon.

He craves the fire that lives in the blood of his Family name.

He wants his sister to love him and only him. Unlike Mother who saw him to be a writhing worm and Rhaegar the dragon prince. Viserys craves validation, assurance, promise that he will never be left to fall again.

Viserys has always been craven.

He no longer wishes to be.

He looks to his little sister. She who looks so much like their dead mother and begs once more. He begs for her to teach him strength. To show him how to roar with the breath of a dragon. He craves to be a brother equal to her strength. He craves to be a dragon- **her** _dragon_ brother.

When he had been a boy, stuck beside his mother’s deathbed with his new born sister. He remembers all too well the lack of acknowledgement his mother gave him. She had not looked at him in her final moments. She had cried- sweat and tears with a face a deathly pale white. She had cried and cradled his bloody fresh born sister and loved the babe. She hadn’t looked once at him- but she knew when she spoke he was there.

_‘At last, a daughter. See how she cries. She is born for great things. The gods have made it so. She will burn brighter than any who came before her. My darling daughter Daenerys. Live for me precious- Live and avenge the loss of your dragon brother Rhaegar.’_

He had waited- child eyes wide with fear and plea. He waited for his turn. He waited to hear words of comfort for him. He waited to be addressed but received nothing. Mother had not looked at him once yet she had dared to order him one last time.

_‘The dragon needs three heads. Protect her Viserys for she will need to be all three alone. Promise me Viserys. Swear it to the sevens.’_

He was a child desperate for the love of his mother. He wasted no time in agreeing and swearing to the vow. When his vow had ended, Mother had smiled and she was so beautiful in the moment. So beautiful and lovely……… but her smile was not for Viserys.

Viserys is a parasite not a dragon and Rhaella Targaryen birthed only dragons.

She died lovingly cradling his new born sister and gave him nothing.

Dragons hoard and Parasites take.

Rhaella hoarded her motherly love and gave none for Viserys to take.

“Mother loved you so much little sister. She made me vow to protect you and I have failed.”

Viserys shudders feeling the cold inside him grow fiercer. He has no more tears to shed and all he has now is words. Words that plea and beg with desperation. He pulls back when Daenerys hushes him. She places both hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look up into her eyes. The fire that blazes in their depth is consuming. Daenerys may be the ghostly image of their mother, but Rhaella Targaryen never had eyes so bright.

“Enough Viserys.”

He swallows and feels as if he is drowning under the intensity of her stare. He feels as if he should be trembling with fear- but all he feels is desperate want to be of some need to her. If the Dothraki has taught him anything since he’d been in their care. It is the fact Viserys is nothing without his sister.

He needs Dany to live.

He needs Dany to breathe.

He simply needs her.

“I am not Mother. I don’t know her- I have never known her. I know nothing about Rhaegar but the tales they whisper of his death. But you-“

When Daenerys reaches for his cheek, he presses closer and shakes with unbidden hope. He whimpers pathetically and knows that nothing in his life matters more than his sister. Dany is his purpose, his life. She is his sister. She is the true dragon. She is his Khaleesi.

“You Viserys are the only family I have known in this life. You are the only brother I know.”

She pulls away from his hold and he pines for her touch again. She doesn’t go far, only reaches for the dragon eggs resting by the flames. She gathers all three and returns. Immediately he reaches for her skin- desperate for her warmth again. She accepts his touch but motions to the eggs in her hold.

“Together. We are the last of the House of Dragons.”

She takes from the cluster of eggs and gives to him the egg that has a greenish shell shade. The second his fingers brush against the egg……… Viserys feels his blood burn. He gasps in pain, shock and awe. There is fire in his veins and a roaring flame bursts in his heart. Finally- after so many years of cold and silence, Viserys can hear and feel the life of the dragon in his soul. He is crying anew and the world is so much brighter. He embraces the egg in his arms and feels how his skin blisters at the heat.

Neither Targaryen notice how much hotter the tent has grown. Neither of them can feel the blistering heat the candles give. They are caught in a spell- locked and trapped as magic sings between them. A strange force circles the inside of the tent and a candle tips. The flame catches and one by one each candle tips. They feed the growing fire that hungrily consumes everything surrounding the siblings.

Still they take no notice.

Daenerys pulls out a blade- from where, Viserys didn’t see, but he cannot look away from it. He thinks he should be screaming, he thinks he should feel fear. However all he feels is warm and the pulsing of the egg in his arms. The fire around them blazes higher and there is screaming and shouting distantly outside of the tent.

Dany cuts her arm and the blood she bleeds glistens.

“I failed you once Viserys.”

She offers to him the blade and he stares at the blood that stains it.

“Blood and Fire,” She chants.

Viserys meets her gaze and he knows he is speaking to the dragon, not his little sister. He feels thirst clawing at his throat, and a second of hesitance. It disappears before it can fully form due to the restless pulsing of the egg in his hold. He speaks softly and reaches for the blade.

“The dragon has three heads.”

He sees her lips curl and there is something hungry and dark. Something cruel and savage- a wildly chaotic need to devour reflected in her eyes. Dany looks mad- insane with fire in her eyes. The flames at her back only add to the powerful image she makes. She cradles the two eggs she holds with one hand and places the other flat against her belly.

“And three heads it will have.”

Viserys doesn’t hesitate.

For the first time in his life.

He gives.

He gives his entire self to his dragon sister.

He slashes at his arm and bleeds.

The wound is hardly felt as he’s too in awe of how red his blood gleams. Around them the fire burns greater and he feels it licking at his skin. Viserys looks to Daenerys and sees that she is staring at him with affection. She is looking at him and he feels it. He sees it in her eyes what she is giving to him freely.

Viserys laughs- he cackles like a mad man, sounding identical to that of his mad father. He roars with laughter and the flames around him dance to the sound. He is giddy, drunk on the madness of the dragon in his mind. He thinks of his dead mother and brother and laughs harder.

‘Look at me Mother,’ he thinks.

‘Watch me take from you what you so preciously hoarded,’

‘Look at me Brother, I have become what you could not.’

‘Look at me Father, Watch the child you cast aside burn and live.’

Viserys lifts his head and he roars out a scream to the gods and heavens above.

The flames engulf the two Targaryen siblings completely and they stand within it without harm. They watch the eggs in their respective holds shiver and shake. They watch how they glisten with blood before small cracks appear on their shell casings. Viserys feels his breath catch as the egg in his hands shatters completely and from it a scaly wet head emerges. The creature that peers out eyes him intently. Despite the roaring flames, despite the screaming angry shouts beyond them, Viserys sees nothing but the creature in his hands.

It slithers from its shell and shakes its scaly small body. He feels the pricks of its claws as it digs into his flesh. He feels how it quivers but never once does it break its gaze on him. He stares at the little thing and suddenly he knows the truth of everything.

Viserys was never a parasite.

He had simply been a dragon without wings.

The little creature hacks and spits before it lifts its head and screeches. Another cry joins it and Viserys sees his sister crying as she clings to a small black scaled creature. The pale cream scaled creature has curled itself close to Dany’s belly, being supported by his sister’s arm.

The creatures turn to their black sibling as if waiting and listening.

The black scaled creature looks up from its curled position round Dany’s neck and stares at Viserys. Its red eyes stare deeply into his own purple orbs and he feels as if he is being judged. He feels a tiny spark of fear- but he no longer wishes to be a coward. He will not be less than what his sister needs. He wants to be worthy of the title brother for Daenerys. He will be everything she needs and more.

Daenerys is his.

She has picked him from his fallen grace and given him wings of flame.

Viserys will not fail his sister.

“I missed you Toothless.” Daenerys croons with tears that burn out of existence to the creature.

The black dragon babe purrs before it lifts its head and screeches to the sky. Louder and stronger than the other two dragon babes. Its high pitched screech echoes through the world like a warning cry.

Truly, the dragons have awaken.

**[Jorah Mormont]**

The Dothraki are wild with wailing and shouts. Jorah himself is filled with panic and concern. The Khaleesi’s tent has been set aflame. The fire so fierce and wild, they have no means of tempering it. The flames burn so hot that water evaporates before it can be any help. The Dothraki can only stand a far distance away and watch with horror as the flame devours and grows.

“They are dead,” Rakharo morbidly declares.

Irri snarls at him and fiercely lashes out and strikes his arm.

“NO! KHALEESI IS NOT DEAD! KHALEESI IS DRAGON!” She snaps.

“Dragons do not burn.” He says.

The surrounding Dothraki round him hear and look at him for more. He swallows because what he says is only a murmurs tale. It is a whispered myth about House Targaryen, that fire cannot burn a true dragon. Viserys was not a true dragon. Jorah was certain the beggar king is dead. He does not know about Daenerys. He did not know her well enough to determine such a thing. Still, he feels an aching despair in his chest as he watches the flames grow.

She had been young, much too young and had suffered so much cruelty.

Jorah despairs as he feels guilt for not trying harder in protecting the young girl.

“Where is Khal Drogo?” someone mutters.

Jorah looks up at that and seeks out the Khal. He worries on what the Khal may do now that the Targaryen’s have perished. The past month has not been kind to the Dothraki clan. There was a sell sword riding about destroying the slaver cities. They called him the Blood Rider. The Dothraki had lost a lot of their means of trade due to the destruction of the slave cities. The slave cities masters are afraid the Blood Rider would turn to hunting them if they accept any more slaves from the Dothraki.

It didn’t help that the Khaleesi had been announced sick and kept out of sight.

Unrest was growing among the Dothraki- there was whispers of challenging Khal Drogo to a duel. Some idiot souls have already attempted to defeat the man and have been gutted and left to rot for their ambitions. When Daenery’s had been announced sick- Jorah had sent word to his employer.

He’d been instructed to find out how and what the sickness was. He had been ordered to encourage whatever it was and ensure the girl died. He’d reported the fall of Viserys and the shaming the Dothraki had done unto him. Jorah was rewarded for not helping the beggar king when he had cried his name so desperately.

Now they are both surely dead.

All it will take is a raven- simply a written word and Jorah will be pardoned and allowed home.

He should feel happier about it.

So why did he feel only shame and grief.

“Khal Drogo is waiting.” Irri boldly announces garnering more looks.

“Khaleesi is dead- Drogo is a fool.” Another spits

Irri glares and she raises her arm and points at the burn scar on his wrist. All attention is now on her and the fierce glare she gives.

“Khaleesi is Dragon. Dragon live in Khaleesi. Khaleesi is not dead. Khaleesi is fire born.”

She looks to the fire that still burns so brightly and grins with excitement and worship.

“Khal Drogo waits to greet Khaleesi and the babe she carries.”

Whispers erupt from her announcement, but Jorah is frozen and hears none of it. The hairs on his neck rise and his skin prickles as dread fills his belly. Then there is a screeching scream- the sound too high pitched to be anything but a creature. The entirety of the Dothraki clan are silent and nothing seems to breathe.

Then they see Khal Drogo move, he walks towards the flames with intense determination.

They all are frozen and simply watch as he approaches the flames without care. Rakharo moves as if he wants to stop the Khal, but Irri pulls him back into place. The praising eyes of awe she wears is unnerving. Jorah feels an ice like trickling travel down the length of his spine. Before their very eyes, the fire that burns slowly begins to shrink.

The closer Khal Drogo walks the further a hungry tooth wide grin grows on his lips. The fire seems to be receding at his command or at least allowing him to pass, but that is impossible. Then in the center of the flames, among the blackened ashes of burnt remains are two figures. One is seated on the ground, looking to be cradling something while the other stands tall with something round their neck.

Khal Drogo stops a few inches before the two figures and waits once more.

The flames completely fade and Jorah stops breathing.

Naked and bare, smudged with soot and ash are the last of House Targaryen. Though it is not their naked state that has stopped the flow of air to his lungs. His eye is first drawn to Viserys- the mad beggar prince who he abandoned to the Dothraki’s care. The boy is seated on the dirt ground- lounging as if he is seated on a throne. The sneer of arrogance the Dothraki had beat out of him has clearly returned but it is different.

There is something different about the boy.

Jorah remembers the insane prince who demanded an army and screamed for his crown. He remembers the crying and pathetically begging boy who pleaded without shame. He remembered the quiet sniveling, obedient boy who never dared to lift his head.

The boy naked and lounging at the feet of the girl behind him is none of those boys.

He is dangerous.

A predator in wait searching for his chance to strike you down and take whatever it wishes.

Jorah then looks to the girl behind the boy. She is looking at none- her attention hoarded completely by the thing round her neck. She is smiling- a soft heart warmed smile that causes Jorah’s chest to sing and his stomach to swoop. Gone is the distant closed, expressionless face. In its place is compassion, affection and above all love. He lingers on the sight of the girl and blames the heat of his skin on the heated air around him.

The thoughts he had is chased away quickly when Khal Drogo steps closer to the unharmed duo.

The Khal speaks to his people- tells them of his pride and shows off to them the strength of his wife and her family. He gathers the girl into his arms and shows no fear towards the creature round her neck. He places his hand on the girl’s stomach and announces the pregnancy of his wife.

The Dothraki burst into chants and cheers.

Above all else, they bend and bow to the couple and sing their praise.

They sing and praise their Khaleesi- the Unburnt, Mother of dragons.

Jorah is the last to bend his knee, but when he does- he is distracted by the piercing sensation of eyes on his skin. He seeks the source and stiffens when his eyes meet the purple orbs of Viserys. Viserys has not moved from his place by his sister’s feet. He continues to lounge, but in his hand is another creature. He pets the thing with a single finger and never lets his gaze drift from Jorah’s. The most unnerving part of it all is the fact the creature copies him exactly.

Jorah swallows against the dryness of his mouth, and feels as if Death sits on his shoulder.

Noticing his reaction, Viserys then smiles- it is a charming smile one shared between friends.

Yet Jorah feels as if he is being devoured and he hastily bows his head. For he knows the truth- the unpleasant truth of what he has just witnessed.

The dragon has three heads, and soon three heads it will have.

House Targaryen lives again.


	18. Tangled Dreams and Purpose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Xmas :D 
> 
> Last chapter, I got alot of passive/neutral responses regarding Viserys and the Dragons. Honestly- i expected worse, so overall I consider the response not bad. Clearly, I've deviated a lot from cannon by now and some characters are no longer like they are in the show. It's only going to continue from here onwards. 
> 
> Like I said, Not much I can really do with the Tyrell's cause they took forever to appear in Cannon. So I've given Eugene and Rapunzel an entire new path to walk. Eugene's situation will come more into light as we continue- but the ending is pretty blunt. 
> 
> Anyway Enjoy.

**[Rapunzel]**

She’s spent the past few days trying to force herself to sleep. She felt starved- desperate for another dream of him. Eugene. Eugene. Her Eugene. The thought of him caused her heart to ache with need and yearning. She missed him so much and craved the feeling of his arms wrapped round her frame.

“Margery?”

“Hm?”

“Are you with us?”

She blinked and looked at her brother. Garlan was looking at her with amusement on his lips, but it did nothing to hide the concern in his eyes. Rapunzel blinked rapidly trying to anchor herself to the waking world. She winced as she realized she’d done it again. Drifted off into her head- sick with heartache and yearn for her love.

“Of course. What was it you were saying?”

Even to her own ears, her voice rang false and dreamy.

“You worry us sister.”

She cringed again.

He was not wrong. Rapunzel had seen the looks on her family’s faces each time they passed her. She’d heard the whispered conversations among the help. Already they called her mad and sick in the mind. She’d seen her grandmother savagely strike with her words at anyone who dared to speak of it. She’d seen her father grow red with frustrated anger towards the Maester’s each time they requested a check for her health. Above all, her mother had not made any effort at all to silence her sudden wailing each time she looked upon Rapunzel.

Truly, Rapunzel thought if anyone should be sick in the mind it would be her mother.

Only Garlan and Willas- her dear sweet brothers, treated her as normal. Only they sat with her and talked about her dreams without any hidden intentions. Though Willas has been rather secretive lately, for what reason, she’s not sure. She’d noticed that some of her art work had gone missing for brief moments of time before suddenly appearing once more. Garlan has not once left her side for any reason at all. He guards her fiercely and it only serves in making her love him even more. She wonders about Loras at some points- but has Eugene on her mind too often to really fret.

“I don’t mean to worry anyone.” She mumbles

Garlan sighs and takes her hand and holds it loosely in comfort.

“Then tell me, tell me what you’re thinking.”

Rapunzel can’t help but smile and look off into the distant east. It’s in that direction her heart sings. She’d never considered her new home to be a prison, not until now. Somewhere out there is the love of her life and he hurts. Rapunzel can’t help but remember the last time she had seen her husband. The heartbroken grief on his face as he held her in his arms. The ragged breath of his heaving cries as he begged her not to leave him alone. They hadn’t anticipated poison- they’d been too distracted with her pregnancy. She died before Eugene- something neither of them ever expected, but she had prayed. She prayed that her child had somehow managed to survive for she knew she had been pregnant with the daughter they both hoped for.

She swallows against the urge to cry for the child she never met.

“I dream Garlan. I dream of lands far away and I yearn to see it.”

“You are not a prisoner Margeary. You are free to roam and see the world as you please.”

Rapunzel laughs and turns to him with a teasing glint in her eyes. It does nothing to hide the tittering she feels at how naïve he sounds. They both know that she is a prized rose in their Garden of thorns. Garlan bites at the inside of his cheek with sourness- all of it aimed at the stranger his sister constantly paints.

“You seek to find your Thief. I see it in your eyes. Consider me naïve but never dare to call me blind. You are no mere rose Maegery, you are more than some pretty little flower. Just as I am more than your indulgent brother.”

Garlan is frustrated, and he can no longer hold back his tongue. She understands his situation but can offer no apologies to put him at ease. So she speaks to him plainly. Not as the little sister he so lovingly pampers. Not as the sharp thorn beauty her Grandmother shaped her to be.

But as the grieving Queen of Corona who won wars and died by poison when soon to give birth.

**[Garlan]**

He notices instantly the change in his sister. The flecks of gold in her brown eyes sharpen into something heavy. She looks out at the world with aged eyes dark with emotion he cannot identify. There is a sharpness to her features- cutting and piercing. She appears cool and stone faced and no longer shines like the sun.

The light in her eyes have dimmed and he sees darkness lurking in their depths.

“I lost something Garlan. Something precious and pure- so pure I never thought it could be tainted. My dreams tell me otherwise. They are more than just dreams. You know it to be true.”

“Are you claiming to have been gifted with the sight?” He interrupts.

“No. Never. I am only claiming to be touched by something otherworldly.”

“Do you believe in magic?”

Though he asked the question, in truth, he does not want the answer. When Maegery turns her eyes to him with a small twisted smirk, he tenses. She looks devious, powerful and all seeing. He has never feared his sister in all his life. Much of his caution among his siblings was put to use towards Willas and his wild schemes and his Grandmother. In this moment however, Maegery intimidates him more than either of them. She does it so well while still looking ever so beautiful.

“Do you?”

He can only swallow at the question and as such does not answer. She fiddles with a flower she’d absently picked and turns her attention back to the east. The light of the sun beams directly upon her and the golden strands among her brown curls shine. For a second, he’d been sure he saw the ghostly image of a crown on her head, but it is gone by his next blink.

“Grandmother believes me to be destined for greatness. She ambitiously wishes greater for our House and she is admirable for her ploys and ambitions.”

Garlan knows she is speaking of their grandmother’s plans to have her crowned Queen. Willas had told him as much but had plans to derail the ploy. From what he is hearing, Margeary sounds as if she has her own idea. He thinks back on the thief that steals into his sister’s dreams and finds himself understanding it all.

She is warning him and he hears her intentions loud and clear.

Willas was right.

“Wherever you bloom sister, never forget your roots remain here.”

She laughs as if he had told a funny jape. It hurts to hear but Willas had warned him to expect it. Damn his brother for always being proven right. When she turns to him it is done with grace and poise. She is smiling at him but there is nothing bright or happy in its depths. All he can see is the sharpness of the expression and the darkness in her eyes.

“I am still a seed brother. My roots have yet to grow.”

He and his brothers had always known there was something missing in their sister. Loras was less likely able to recall those dreaded nights filled with wailing. Willas and Garlan would never be able to forget it. From morning to night, Maegery used to cry even when she grew out of her babe years. She hardly smiled and rarely laughed and often stared up into the sky at night in search for something she never shared. Garlan had always thought she looked as if she was waiting.

Then when she was 4 years old, their grandmother had given her a talking. They never knew exactly what had been said between the two. Only that afterwards his sister stopped her constant crying. Following that, her lessons were completely taken over by their grandmother. She grew brighter, laughed more and they’d all been relieved they never questioned it.

Her before him, Maegery was telling him the truth of it all.

He stepped closer to her and drew her into his arms. Hugging her close as if to apologize but also to comfort himself. She clutched him back just as tightly.

“Be safe sister and when you find your thief be sure to tell him I am quite eager to meet him.”

She laughs and he savors the sound- memorizes it so it will never fade from his memory. He hopes that when she finds her thief the sound of her laughter will stop ringing so hollow in his ears. He leaves her soon after and makes haste.

He needs to tell Willas.

**[Rapunzel]**

She waits for night to fall before she makes her move. She worries briefly about the state of her new body but tries not to discourage herself. Sure, her new body has never been thoroughly pushed physically, but she’d been active enough. It should be able to cope. In her before- life she’d not been as adventurous after she’d had her first child; at least the castle had still been quite large. Eugene had also indulged in her need to spar with her pans and swing about the kingdom.

She checks herself over a couple more times, mentally addressing her list of things she might need.

_‘This is a really bad idea.’_ Cass warns in her head.

More than ever, she misses her dark haired friend.

“I’ll be fine. I learnt from the best after all.” She mumbles.

_‘Don’t let lover boy wait too long for you.’_

Rapunzel looks at her reflection and smiles at the ghostly image of her friend. She misses her fiercely and the feeling threatens to overwhelm her. But Rapunzel has places to be and a love to find so she bottles it quickly. The black body suit she’d been working on helps her blend with the night easily. She brushes her hand over the daggers she’d stolen from Willas’s collection. While she’s been sorely out of practice, she’s sure she can train on the road. She allows herself one last look at her chambers and lingers on her finished painting of Eugene.

He smirks at her and she’d managed to capture that mischievous glint in his eyes perfectly.

“I’m coming Eugene.”

With one last nod, she steadily makes her way out her window and begins her escape from Highgarden.

**[Willas]**

He’s waiting for her by the stables.

The guards had long been notified not to interfere and his words hold greater power than his father. Willas may be a cripple but he was still the heir and more competent lord. While his father was not a cruel man, his grandmother wasn’t wrong to call the man an oaf. Truly, if Willas wanted it, he could easily overthrow his father and claim his right as Lord. All without a single protest from the people of Highgarden. He wouldn’t though, not when being a cripple allows him so much room to play. No-one expects much threat from a cripple.

The truth is this, Willas Tyrell had injured his leg years before.

But his limp is not as crippling as everyone believes.

It had only taken a whisper and a bit of gold for the Maester to diagnose him wrong and word to spread.

When Margaery begins her sneaking he’d only spotted her by chance.

He’d been too deep in his thoughts.

Any deeper and he would have missed her.

It doesn’t matter as he had seen her. He watches his little sister climb down from her tower. He hadn’t really noticed how high up her bed chambers were. Well, it wasn’t named Highgarden without reason. Willas feels his brows climb higher on his face as he watches Margaery gracefully scale down the side of the castle. Just how often did she escape her rooms by such a way?

She looked much too comfortable.

As if she’d done it million times before.

When she reaches the ground, Willas leans on his cane and bemusedly studies her. There’s a satisfied smirk on her lips, and she dusts of her hands proudly. It’s too adorably cute that he’s almost reluctant to interrupt and spoil her little victory.

Almost.

“Ah hem.”

Margaery yelps, but she doesn’t simply startle as he expected. She moves so quickly, he almost hadn’t followed her movements. Willas blinks in surprise but the result never changes. The Tyrell Heir finds himself held at knife point by his own little sister with one of his own blades. How on earth did she even get those!? He had them locked away in his chambers. He studies the way her eyes widen in shock and slight horror. Though curiously it does nothing to soften the sharp darkness that lurks within the depths of her gaze.

“Willas! What are you doing!?” She hisses

He notes that her body movement is stiff- as if she is forcing herself to release him. It stings a bit to think she sees him as a threat. Though it’s not unreasonable. By all accounts, she probably thinks he is waiting to simply march her back to her chambers and lock her back in.

“I’m beginning to have my own suspicions about this thief of yours Margaery.”

He shakes his head playfully before narrowing an older brotherly glare at her. She frowns in defense and he speaks on.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how comfortably you just climbed down from your tower. I now wonder if this thief of yours had not charmed his way into our gardens. Instead, perhaps it was you who stole away to meet this thief.”

He dramatically frowned with a heavy sigh.

“Frankly either way, both situations are the nightmares of big brothers.”

He grins when he hears her huff exasperatedly but grows serious soon after.

“You didn’t foolishly believe Garlan and I wouldn’t have guessed?”

Margaery looks down at that- but Willas hobbles to her side quickly and tilts her gaze to meet his. She looks guilty and it’s enough to soften his heart. Truly, Willas is a slave to his prized little sister. For her, he would do anything.

“Do you not trust Garlan and I when we say we believe you?”

Margaery bites her lip but softly answers.

“How can I? It is easiest to believe that it is madness rather than truth.”

Willas curses his Grandmother, Father and Mother. While their love for his sister is not in doubt. He knows they are skeptical about her thief tales and insistence that her dreams mean something real. Outwardly, he can only sigh and lightly tug at his sisters braided hair.

“What a troublesome little sister you’re turning to be. Listen to me Margaery. If you had thought for a second Garlan and I would leave you to chase after your dream thief alone, you are sorely mistaken.”

She is quick to respond and he knows why.

She is House Tyrell’s precious prized Rose.

Grandmother and Father would never dare to let her leave Highgarden.

When she says as such, Willas smirks. It is a cunning and sly smile- one that he rarely let’s sit on his lips. As stated before, while well meaning, his father is an oaf and Willas is the true lord of House Tyrell. When morning dawns, Garlan will happily inform the rest of their family of what has happened. He will tell the tale of how Willas received a raven late into the night. A message from his good friend Prince Oberyn Martell that requested his presence in Dorne. Concerned about the panicked note, Willas made to leave immediately. It was by chance Margaery had a night terror just as Willas had sought her to say goodbye. She was so inconsolable that Willas thought a trip beyond Highgarden would be beneficial.

He relished in the surprise but bright hope on Margeary’s face.

“Will it work? Won’t we be reported?” she asked.

Willas smirked and whistled for his horse. A stable boy led two of their best horses to them. The small boy gave a bright grin and bid them luck on their journey. As the truth is this- Willas Tyrell was the true power wielder behind House Tyrell, but Margaery Tyrell was their light in the garden. The people of Highgarden loved Margaery Tyrell for she was kind, gentle and never treated them as if they were lesser to her.

While they would support Lady Olenna’s wishes for Margaery to be Queen.

They would choose a happy Margaery in loving bloom beyond anything.

As Willas settled onto his mount, Margeary took the time to hug the small boy and thank him by name. The stable boy only grinned and encouraged Margaery to be safe and return with or without her thief as games will be boring with her gone. She mounted her horse and with a raised hand he signaled the guards, the two siblings galloped away into the night.

The two beginning their chase to find a dreamed thief.

**[Lady Olenna]**

She stiffly sat in her seat and her grip on her fork tightened. The flesh of her lips pursed together so tightly they paled from weathered pink to white. Despite the sharp pointed glare she gave her grandson, the boy continued to smile. Olenna could spy her idiot son warily watching her while his trollop wife trembled in her seat.

“Do you take me to be a fool boy!?” She hissed

Garlan only shrugged- nonchalant and uncaring for her raging temper.

“I simply speak to you the truth of what I was informed. Willas left a note and everything grandmother.”

Olenna bit her tongue to still the rage she wished to unleash. Instead she sparred her petulant brat grandson no more attention and stood to hurry a letter. She was surrounded by idiot children- they couldn’t possibly hold any relation to her!? How have none of them inherited her wit or mind for opportunity and cunning!? Did they think her too senile to see through the farce of a story?

She spared no care for the words she spat at any who got in her way.

Plans and Opportunity missed and ruined because of silly dreams and impertinent children.

The letter she penned was by no means neat. It read only one line that was a blatant order and by no means a suggestion. Willas was much to brazen to have openly challenged her like so. Stealing his sister for some foolish trip of his.

Fine.

If he wishes to play such a game with her, then she will meet him on the battlefield.

House Tyrell will prevail.

Margaery Tyrell will become Queen.

And nothing will stop her from seeing it become true.

**[Loras]**

When Loras is given his letters, he is apprehensive as there are three letters that await his attention. He ignores all for the flowery script of his name which he knows is from his sister. He reads the letter and feels his heart war with indecision. He then reads the letter from his brothers and feels stressed. Finally he reads the single- hastily penned order from his Grandmother and feels exhausted.

“Loras?”

He turns to Renly and simply wants to unload the stress he feels. He wants to confess the warring game his grandmother and older brother play about his sister. He wants to tell Renly about his broken little sister who sounds so strange in her letter. Margeary was always so earnest in her letters, never so brazen. The letter she sent him sounded nothing like the sister he left behind and he wants to know why.

He wants to know who this thief she chases is and why he has stirred so much chaos among his family.

“I don’t know what to do!” Loras admits softly.

Renly takes him into his arms and kisses his head.

“Well, I don’t know what it is your talking about. Though I’m sure whatever it is, you’ll win.”

Loras laughs at how naïve his lover speaks and thinks.

But it is for that reason, Loras loves the youngest Baratheon.

“Do you still wish to talk to Robert about your sister?”

Loras swallows as that is the real question isn’t it? What should he do? He inhales deeply than exhales. He will have to make a choice.

So he does.

Only the gods know if it was the right one.

**[Eugene]**

“You have got to be kidding me!” He groans.

He tries not to let the bubbling of hysterical panic overwhelm him. It doesn’t stop his breath from coming out in rushed heaves and his hands from shaking. Across from him he thinks his horse companion is giving him looks of pity. Which is insane because Horses don’t fucking DO THAT! He scrubs his hands against his breeches but it’s no use. The red stain on his skin doesn’t change- instead it only alerts him to the filthy state of his clothes once again.

It’s happened again.

It just keeps happening.

No matter how hard he scrubs.

A second ago, Eugene clearly remembers leaving a river, clean of red and filth.

A second ago he could see the looming of a city nearby.

A second ago he had blinked.

And now he is bloody again and lost.

He hadn’t cared before- all he ever came across were strangers, rapists and men intent on killing him for coin. He’d been grieving, unable to remember how or why only certain that he had died. Now, things were different.

He can’t ignore it anymore.

The amount of people who flee in fear or attempt to kill him for the reward on his life have grown larger. He’s left two cities in ashes now and can’t even remember entering it. He can never stay clean- always drenched in blood and dirt. By this point he’s starting to wonder if his skin is truly red and not dark brown. Is his hair even Black?

“What’s happening to me?” He croaks

Copper- his horse, who is just as filthy as him, neighs sympathetically. He can’t help but laugh and cry at the fact he’s getting sympathy from a bloody horse. How many has he killed now? Were they children? Had he destroyed families and left no living behind? Why is this happening to him?

_‘Eugene’_

His name is whispered in his mind and he looks around wildly.

Rapunzel.

Rapunzel.

Rapunzel!

Where is she?

_‘Eugene’_

He died! Shouldn’t he be with her? Where is she?

Eugene falls to his knees and cries her name to the skies.

And then he blinks.

He’s standing suddenly and there are two beheaded corpses in front of him. He looks for the heads but cannot find them. He sees Copper watching him from where it nibbles on dry grass. Eugene drops the swords- he’d tried throwing them away once, but blinked and they were with him again. He tried selling the weapons to merchants but a blink later he was standing over their lifeless forms. He learnt quickly that being weapon less will only bring more death. He goes to scrub his hands on his breeches- a steady developing habit he’s growing to have- when he feels the bulk of parchment in his pocket.

He reaches for it and trembles with tension on what he finds.

He recognizes the script to be his own penmanship, though he can’t recall ever writing it. The note is simple but it still strikes terror into his heart.

**_Go to the Dorthraki There WE Shall find OUR purpose._ **

His world turns, it twists and he scrunches the paper and throws it away. He squeezes his eyes tightly and loudly chants to himself.

“This is not real. This is not real. This is not real. There is no way this is real.”

He then hears Copper stomping his hooves and wildly making noise. He forces himself to open his eyes and discovers the paper to be in his clenched fist again.

“Oh my GOD!” he all but screams.

He unravels the parchment and again there is a message. Once again scrawled in his own hand writing.

**_TRUST IN THE HORSE BEAST!_ **

**_~~RAPUN~~ _ **

**_SHE WILL FIND US!_ **

**_~~KHALEE~~ _ **

**_~~BLOOD AND FIR   DO NOT BE AFRAID~~ _ **

**_Remember Mother’s words._ **

**_Find the Snake Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken._ **

It’s madness.

It has to be.

But Eugene has nothing else but the parchment in his hands to guide him.

He flips the parchment and finds the other side filled with orders. The men before him were ordered to kill him- they’d followed him for several miles. They were paid by several of the so called Magisters to ensure his death. The coin paid quite large- in fact he’s pretty sure it’s the largest ever offered for his life.

Either way, he has other things to think about. Something is most definitely wrong with him. Why would he be writing himself notes? How come he doesn’t remember? He has too many questions!

But there is one thing Eugene has always done.

And that is trust and believing in himself when no one else would or could.

With that in mind he turns to the rather beastly large Horse- yeah, that definitely proved he wrote the note- and eyes it just a tad hysterically.

“I suppose you wouldn’t happen to know what a Dothraki is?”

Copper snuffs at him but he can do nothing but gape with wide eyes. The copper red Horse lowers itself and motions, as if for him to climb on top of his back. Eugene is very freaked out but what else can he do?

After a second more of hesitation, he climbs atop the horse.

And Onward the Blood Rider travels, leaving a trail of blood and corpses to follow.

**[Doran Martell]**

“Oberyn? What is the meaning of this?”

Doran watches his brother keenly. He feels a stirring of apprehension in his gut and he is not sure what to think. Oberyn is grinning at him- rather madly truth be told. It worries him as he has not seen his little brother look so energetic in a long while. Though it is perhaps the glinting shine of happiness in Oberyn’s eyes that truly worries him.

Elia’s death had not only stolen from him a little sister, but left him with an impulsive and reckless little brother. There isn’t a day that passes Doran by where he does not stress or worry about Oberyn and his choices.

“Do you remember? Do you remember that day all those years ago? I had written to both you and Elia and told you about the woman I’d met.”

Doran stiffens and his gut twists with dread. When Oberyn continues to grin and wistfully looks off into the distance, Doran softly answers.

“I remember. How could I ever forget?”

Doran could never forget.

Oberyn doesn’t dally, he turns to him and offers out a letter and a sketched drawing. Warily, he takes the two and reads. He feels himself tense and a cold sensation trickles down his spine. He re-reads Willas Tyrell’s riddled letter and knows he did not decipher it wrong. Then he turns to the sketched picture and he cannot deny what he sees. The resemblance is uncanny- blatant and hard to miss.

“You trust this to be fact?”

Oberyn nods and Doran swallows at what it all means. It’s not till Oberyn verbally speaks that Doran feels the full sweeping of dread in his gut.

“I have a son. Somewhere out there she gave me a son.”

“Oberyn-“

“Willas Tyrell’s already sent warning of his impending arrival and he brings with him his sister. Doran, if this is true I will not stay here and idly wait. I will leave to find him!”

Doran swallows because he hadn’t expected anything less.

This was Oberyn warning him of malicious intentions and telling him he will not be stopped will not deter him.

Still, he must try.

“You don’t even know if the boy truly lives or is some mad illusion created to weaken you and our House!”

“Which is why I will meet with the girl before I leave. I will not be going alone. My daughters have already been told.”

Doran’s dread grows greater.

“They are quite eager to meet their brother.”

The brother’s meet eyes and silence builds between them. It’s Doran who breaks it with a soft spoken tone.

“You have already decided. Anything I say, you will not listen to.”

Oberyn grimly regards him but there is no guilt in his eyes.

“Sitting and waiting is not how I am. You promised me that a day will come where we will avenge our sister. Still that day has not come and years have already passed us by. If the boy is real or not, he is **entirely mine.** I will not let you chain me here like you already have.”

Doran says nothing to that as he has nothing else to say. When Oberyn leaves, he is left to sit in his wheel chair and think. He is always sitting in this chair, thinking of endless possibilities and past mistakes. Doran loved his siblings- he loved his brother.

But any child birthed by that **_woman_** can only be a sign of danger to come.

Once again, Doran can only wait and hope that his fears will not prove true.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think and don't be shy.


End file.
